YS™ 
OF  AUDUBON 

BY 

HEZEKIAH  •  BUTTERWORTH 


GEORGE  W    BEATTY, 

204  H»r?COCK  ST., 

BROOKLYN.  N.  Y. 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 


BY  HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH. 
Uniform  Edition.    Each,  12mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 


In  the  Days  Of  Audubon.  A  Tale  of  the  "Protector 
of  Birds."  Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst  and 
Others. 

In  the  Days  of  Jefferson ;  OR,  THE  Six  GOLDEN 
HORSESHOES.  Illustrated  by  F.  T.  Merrill  and  Others, 

The  Story  of  Hagellan.  A  Tale  of  the  Discovery 
of  the  Philippines.  Illustrated  by  F.  T.  Merrill  and 
Others. 

The  Treasure  Ship.  A  Story  of  Sir  William  Phipps 
and  the  Inter-Charter  Period  in  Massachusetts.  Illus- 
trated by  B.  West  Clinedinst  and  Others. 

The  Pilot  of  the  flayflower.  illustrated  by  H. 
Winthrop  Peirce  and  Others. 

True  to  his  Home.  A  Tale  of  the  Boyhood  of  Frank- 
lin. Illustrated  by  H.  Winthrop  Peirce. 

The  Wampum  Belt ;  OR,  THE  FAIREST  PAGE  OF 
HISTORY.  A  Tale  of  William  Penn's  Treaty  with 
the  Indians.  With  6  full-page  Illustrations. 

The  Knight  Of  Liberty.  A  Tale  of  the  Fortunes  of 
Lafayette,  With  6  full-page  Illustrations. 

The  Patriot  Schoolmaster.  A  Tale  of  the  Minute- 
men  and  the  Sons  of  Liberty.  With  6  full-page  Illus- 
trations by  H.  Winthrop  Peirce. 

In  the  Boyhood  of  Lincoln.  A  Story  of  the  Black 
Hawk  War  and  the  Tunker  Schoolmaster.  With  12 
Illustrations  and  colored  Frontispiece. 

The  Boys  of  Green  way  Court.  A  Story  of  the 
Early  Years  of  Washington.  With  10  full-page  Illus- 
trations. 

The  Log  School = House  on  the  Columbia,  with 
13  full-page  Illustrations  by  J.  Carter  Beard,  E.  J. 
Austen  and  Others. 


D.   APPLETON   AND  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK. 


Something  new  almost  daily  would  awaken  their  curiosity. 

(See  page  73.) 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 


A    TALE  OF   THE   "PROTECTOR   OF  BIRDS" 

WITH    AN    APPENDIX   ON 
THE   FORMATION    OF   AUDUBON    SOCIETIES 


BY 

HEZEKIAH   BUTTERWORTH 

AUTHOR    OF 

IN   THE  BOYHOOD   OF  LINCOLN,    THE   BOYS   OF   GREENWAY   COURT, 
IN   THE   DAYS   OF   JEFFERSON,    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  B.    WEST  CLINEDINST 
AND  OTHERS 


NEW     YORK 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 
1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY   D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY. 


"Hunt  the  eagle  and  lion  if  you  will,  but  do  not  hunt 

the  weak." 

MICHELET. 

"The  bird   prepared   the  earth  for  ye.      Why  kill  the 

friends  of  Wilson  ?  " 

MICHELET. 

THE  SYMPHONY  OP  LIFE  :  "To  live  content  with  small 
means  ;  to  seek  elegance  rather  than  luxury,  and  refinement 
rather  than  ostentation  ;  to  be  worthy,  not  fashionable,  and 
wealthy,  not  rich  ;  to  study  hard,  think  quietly,  talk  gently, 
act  frankly  ;  to  listen  to  stars  and  birds,  to  babes  and  sages, 
with  open  heart  ;  to  bear  all  cheerfully,  to  do  all  bravely,  to 
await  occasions,  hurry  never.  In  a  word,  to  let  the  spirit- 
ual grow  up  through  the  common.  This  is  my  symphony." 

WILLIAM  H.  CHANNING. 


PEEPACE 


THE  great  growth  of  "  Audubon  Societies  "  for  young 
people  and  of  "  Bands  of  Mercy"  among  children;  the 
adoption  of  the  "  Bird  of  Washington,"  or  the  white- 
headed  eagle,  on  many  State  shields,  and  on  crests  and  em- 
blems; and  the  new  view  of  what  Audubon's  Birds  of 
America  did  to  bring  a  superior  emigration  to  our  States — 
suggest  a  place  for  a  new  story  of  the  life  of  Audubon. 

Such  a  story  I  have  attempted  to  write,  so  as  to  give 
a  picture  of  old  times  in  the  pioneer  West,  and  to  encour- 
age the  forming  of  societies  for  the  protection  of  birds. 
The  study  of  birds  with  the  camera  opens  a  new  field 
for  the  young  naturalist,  and  calls  him  to  the  woods  and 
country  under  new  conditions. 

While  the  story  of  Audubon's  life  in  this  volume  fol- 
lows the  methods  of  historical  fiction,  the  narrative  and 
illustrated  anecdotes  are  substantially  true — fact  in  picture. 

There  is,  so  far  as  I  know,  no  American  story  of  Audu- 
bon for  young  people's  libraries  of  historical  fiction.  The 
story  of  the  Protector  of  Birds  would  seem  to  be  a  needed 
influence  in  the  growth  of  the  kindergarten  spirit  toward 

birds  and  dumb  animals. 

vii 


viii  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

The  forest  tales  of  Audubon  furnish  also  one  of  the 
most  realistic  pictures  of  the  early  history  of  pioneer  life  in 
our  country.  Folk-lore  is  sometimes  the  truest  history. 
The  stories  in  the  Ornithological  Biographies  of  Audubon 
picture  what  America  was  in  the  times  of  the  foresters. 

But,  above  all,  Audubon  was  a  true  man,  and  his  char- 
acter was  formed  on  the  right  models,  and  for  the  reason 
that  he  made  his  birds  immortal  in  perfect  art,  he  himself 
became  immortal. 

This  is  the  impression  I  have  sought  to  make  in  this 
interpretation  of  the  life  of  the  American  Woodman. 

I  have  added  an  Appendix  on  how  to  form  Audubon 
societies,  how  to  study  the  beneficent  habits  of  birds,  and 
how  to  tame  birds  without  cages  by  making  them  the 
dwellers  of  dooryard  trees,  after  the  manner  of  old  English 
cottagers  and  the  New  England  farmers,  in  whose  door- 
yards  and  gardens  bird-boxes  filled  the  gables  and  trees. 

The  story  of  Wilson,  the  Scottish  poet-schoolmaster,  is 
almost  as  beautiful  and  instructive  as  that  of  Audubon's 
forest  life,  and  I  have  included  some  of  his  thoughts  in 
this  volume. 

It  has  seemed  best  to  me  to  aid  this  interpretation  of 
Audubon  by  the  story  of  Victor  Audubon,  the  son  of 
the  ornithologist,  who  was  his  faithful  companion  in  the 

HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH. 

BOSTON,  MASS.,  June  1,  1901. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — A    SURPRISED    CLERK  .  .  .  .  ....  .  1 

II. — A   LITTLE   BIRD   THAT   DIED         ...  .  .  .  .  8 

III. — DECISIVE  HOURS — THE  STORY  OF  POOR  POLLY  AND  THE  MON- 
KEY               .        .        .        .        »        .11 

IV. — YOUNG  AUDUBON'S  CAVE         .        .        .  '      .        .        .        .      24 

V. — A    STRANGE   ADVENTURE   ON   THE    ICE — A    WEDDING    JOURNEY 

IN  AN  "ARK"       .        .        .        .        .                .  ,,.        .35 

VI. — A  PEDLER  WITH  A  FACE  LIKE  A  BIRD    .        .       .  .        .39 

VII. — A  HERBMAN  OF  SINGLE  SIGHT  WHO  WAS  LAUGHED  AT — THE 

HERB  DOCTOR        .       .....".       .  .        .      43 

VIII. — THE   GENIUS   THAT    SEES — THE     STORY    OF    THE    FOREST    INN 

AND   THE   WREN .  .56 

IX. — VICTOR,  THE  SON  OF   AUDUBON — FATHER  AND  SON  IN  THE 

FOREST — FOREST   TALES — PARTRIDGE    LAND — AN   OLD    KEN- 
TUCKY FOURTH  OF  JULY      .         .        .        .        .         .         .       63 

X. — IN   DAYS    OF    POVERTY — FATHER   AND    SON — DANIEL   BOONE       .         81 
XI. — A   NOBLE    WIFE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .         96 

XII. — VICTOR,    THE    FOREST   BOY — HOW   HE   STUDIED   NATURE     .  .         99 

XIII. — AUDUBON  DISCOVERS  THE  GREAT  EAGLE,  THE  BIRD  OF  WASH- 
INGTON— THE   EMBLEM   OF  THE   REPUBLIC      .  .          .          .      105 

XIV. — THE  DARK  ROOM — AUDUBON  AND  THE  RATS  ....     109 
XV. — ALEXANDER  WILSON,  THE  AMERICAN  "  ROBINSON  CRUSOE  " 

— HIS  PARROT 113 

XVI. — FLORIDA  AS  IT  WAS 117 

ix 


X  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII. — THE  SICK  BOY — WAGON  TALES 123 

XVIII. — THE    SIGNATURE   OF   THE   KING 145 

XIX. — AUDUBON  VISITS  BARON  ROTHSCHILD 155 

XX. — THE  CZAR'S  GOLDEN  SNUFF-BOX — AUDUBON'S  FOREST  TALES  159 

XXI. — A    HUNT    WITH    A   SQUATTER   .......  162 

XXII. — OLD  MISSOURI  DAYS,  OR  THE  WESTERN  STATES  AS  SEEN 

BY  VICTOR 168 

XXIII. — THE  STORY  OF  HOW  THE  INDIANS  ON  THE  MISSOURI  DIS- 
APPEARED    180 

XXI V. — A  BUFFALO-HUNT — A  GREAT  BEAR — THE  HAND  ABOVE  THE 

REEDS 184 

XXV. — AUDUBON  AND  DANIEL  WEBSTER,  OF  MARSHFIELD  FARMS  196 

XXVI. — THE  PROTECTOR  OF  BIRDS 203 

XXVII. — THE   INN   IN   THE    FOREST — STRANGE   NEWS      ....  208 

XXVIII. — THE  HOME  OF  AUDUBON  ON  THE  HUDSON — WHAT  A  NATU- 
RALISTS  HOME    SHOULD    BE — THE    MUSICAL    WOODPECKER  213 

XXIX.— THE  LAST  DAYS     .        .        .        .        .    -    .        .        .        .218 

APPENDIX 

HOW  TO  FORM  AN  AUDUBON  SOCIETY   .       ...       .       .       .  220 

SELECTIONS  FOR  RECITATION  AT  AUDUBON  SOCIETIES   .                        ,  227 


LIST  OF  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 

Something  new  almost  daily  would  awaken  their  curi- 
osity      Frontispiece 

"The  Bird  of  Washington"* .        .59 

Mocking-birds  defending  their  nests  * 70 

Father  and  son  painted  together     .        .        .        .                 .        .  143 

"The  prairie  dog  hung  on  until  I  shook  it  off  "  .        .        .        .  171 

Portrait  and  autograph  of  Audubon        .        .        .        .        .        .  192 

"A  thousand  dollars  a  copy!" -  -      .  210 

Monument  in  Trinity  Cemetery,  Amsterdam  Avenue,  New  York  .  218 


*  After  the  original  plate  in  Audubon's  The  Birds  of  America. 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF  AUDUBON 


CHAPTEK   I 

A    SURPRISED    CLERK 

NEAR  the  close  of  a  long  summer  day  a  clerk  sat  at  his 
desk  near  an  open  window  in  an  inn.  He  had  nothing  to 
do  at  the  moment,  and  chanced  to  cast  his  eye  toward  the 
end  of  an  old  Indian  forest  trail  near  the  hostelry,  when 
he  saw  a  strange  figure  emerging  from  the  bushes. 

"  Look  here !  "  he  presently  said  to  a  solitary  lounger  in 
the  office.  "  There  comes  the  old  man  of  the  forest  him- 
self—loaded with  what?  " 

"  Sticks,"  said  the  lounger. 

"  Well,  I  would  say  sticks — no,  a  mountain  eagle's  nest 
and  a  leather  pouch.  I  wonder  what  he  has  in  the  pouch? 
There  are  some  queer  men  in  the  woods  in  these  times, 
but  he  is  the  oddest  one  I  have  seen  yet.  The  old  fellow 
is  making  for  the  tavern.  What  could  I  do  with  him  if 
he  should  want  a  room?  A  party  of  the  members  of  the 
circuit  court  are  to  sleep  here  to-night." 

The  man  who  had  come  out  of  the  forest  stopped  on 
1  1 


2  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

the  wide  oak  veranda.  He  was  not  old.  Under  the  portico 
there  was  a  sign  bearing  the  inscription  "  The  Relay  Inn." 

The  queer-looking  man  laid  down  a  huge  nest  on  the 
floor  of  the  veranda  very  carefully. 

"  Hey,  you  there,  old  fellow,  don't  you  clutter  up  the 
floor!  We  are  going  to  entertain  a  party  of  men  from 
the  court  to-night — jurymen — and  we  want  things  about 
here  to  look  trim  and  clean.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  that  bird's  cord-wood,  anyway?  " 

"  My  friend,  that  is  a  nest  of  the  white  mountain 
eagle." 

The  stranger  seemed  to  regard  it  as  a  treasure. 

"  So  I  see.  But  what  of  it?  It  is  simply  a  pile  of  sticks. 
Why  do  you  bring  them  here  ? " 

"  My  friend,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  that  nest  is  very 
rare.  I  climbed  two  days  to  secure  it,  and  tore  my  flesh — 
see,  see — so  as  to  bring  it  down  the  cliffs  unbroken.  I 
would  not  displace  a  single  stick,  not  for  a  doubloon. 
There  it  is,  just  as  I  found  it.  My  arms  ache  carrying 
it  in  such  an  exact  way.  Show  me  to  a  room." 

"  Show  you  to  the  wood-house !  You  do  not  expect  to 
take  that  bundle  of  sticks  and  a  lot  of  other  trumpery  to 
a  regular  room  in  the  inn? " 

"  Why,  my  young  man,  of  course  I  do.  Are  you  not 
a  little  rude  to  a  stranger  who  comes  to  you  for  hospi- 
tality? " 

"  Old  man,  you  are  daft." 


A  SURPRISED  CLERK  3 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am  neither  old  nor  daft.  You 
keep  a  public  house,  to  which  all  respectable  folk  should 
be  welcome.  I  am  an  eminently  respectable  man.  You 
have  no  moral  or  legal  right  to  treat  a  gentleman  rudely." 

"  Well,  old  fellow,  leave  your  sticks  in  the  wood-shed, 
and  I  will  give  you  a  room  in  the  attic — the  rest  of  the 
rooms  are  to  be  occupied  to-night.  The  judge,  jury,  and 
witnesses  are  to  be  here.  That  is  the  best  I  can  do." 

"  But  I  must  take  the  nest  to  my  room.  I  wish  to 
paint  it  before  anything  happens  to  disarrange  it — to  paint 
it  just  as  the  eagle  left  it  on  the  cliff.  I  came  near  fall- 
ing over  the  cliff  to  secure  it.  I  tied  a  rope  to  a  tree 
on  the  cliff,  and  let  myself  down  by  it  over  the  edge  of 
the  cliff,  when — it  makes  me  dizzy  to  think  of  it! — the 
tree  bent  over.  It  has  been  dry  weather,  and  the  soil  is 
shallow  on  the  surface  of  the  rock.  I  periled  my  life 
to  secure  that  nest.  I  would  not  sell  it  for  pounds,  for 
doubloons,  for  napoleons,  for  anything." 

The  clerk  stared. 

"  You  must  be  loony !  " 

"Sir?" 

"  You  must  be  daft — a  little  off — not  quite  all  there. 
I  wouldn't  give  a  penny  for  the  nest  for  kindling  wood 
on  a  cold  day  in  winter.  What  can  that  rotting  rub- 
bish be  to  you?  " 

"My  life — my  life  is  in  it.  Oh,  you  don't  know! 
You  can't  see!  What  power  taught  the  inhabitant  of  the 


4  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

skies,  the  worshiper  of  the  sun,  the  winged  dweller  in 
the  chambers  of  the  air,  to  build  a  nest  like  that?  " 

"  Heaven  knows — I  don't.  Well,  a  man  can't  help 
being  wanting,  so  let  me  carry  that  nest  with  all  of  its  rock- 
weeds  and  rubbish  up  to  the  sky  room,  as  carefully  as  pos- 
sible, so  as  not  to  litter  the  stairs." 

"You  carry  it?  I  would  not  trust  you  to  touch  it — 
you,  who  in  your  present  state  of  ignorance  know  little 
of  the  wonders  of  a  creation  like  that.  Did  you  ever 
read  the  book  of  Job  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  did.     "What's  in  it?    Who  wrote  it? " 

"What  is  in  it?  The  hidden  secrets  of  the  universe. 
Who  wrote  it?  Job.  He  saw  behind  nature — he  had 
a  vision  of  the  instincts  of  the  universe  of  creatures  of 
air  and  wings.  He r 

"  Well,  old  fellow,  you  or  I  must  have  gone  daft,  but 
I  am  left  in  charge  of  this  hotel.  So  take  the  nest,  and 
I  will  show  you  the  room  in  the  cockloft  under  the  rafters." 

The  stranger  took  up  the  nest  very  carefully,  and  fol- 
lowed the  clerk  up  the  hard  oak  stairs.  As  they  passed 
the  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  where  doors  were  open, 
the  clerk  said: 

"  Look  in  there — the  chambers  are  herrin'-boned  with 
sand,  as  white  as  marble,  all  ready  for  the  court,  who 
will  be  here  soon  on  horseback.  I  don't  know  what  the 
judge  would  think  to  find  a  man  here  with  an  eagle's  nest 
and  what  not.  I  wish  your  visit  had  been  deferred.  I  will 


A  SURPRISED  CLERK  5 

ring  a  second  bell  for  you  supper  time,  for  the  first  table 
will  be  full." 

The  stranger  looked  into  the  sanded  room,  and  stum- 
bled; a  part  of  the  nest  fell.  He  threw  back  his  head. 

"  Now  you  have  done  it !  "  said  the  clerk.  "  Just  look 
at  the  floor,  and  all  that  dirt  right  before  the  room  to 
be  occupied  by  the  Honorable  Judge  Rush!  " 

The  stranger  trembled. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  had  that  happen  for  a  fortune." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  me?  There  is  your  room 
up  the  ladder  at  the  top  of  the  stairs.  Go  into  it  before 
anything  else  happens,  and  stay  there  until  I  call  you." 

The  stranger's  eyes  overflowed  with  tears.  He  bore 
up  the  broken  nest  carefully,  and  threw  himself  upon  the 
bed  and  wept  like  a  child. 

The  sun  was  going  down  over  the  immense  forests  in 
a  languid  sky.  The  air  was  so  still  that  distant  sounds 
could  be  heard,  and  the  road  rocks  seemed  to  echo. 

There  was  a  far-away  noise  of  horses'  feet.  A  horn 
was  blown,  and  the  sound  seemed  to  tremble  in  the  still  air. 
Then  fourteen  men  came  riding  up  to  the  veranda  of  the 
hotel,  dropping  the  reins  on  the  horses'  necks,  and  dis- 
mounting. The  landlord  was  with  them. 

The  horses  began  to  feed  by  the  way,  and  the  land- 
lord, brusk  and  brisk,  called  out  to  the  clerk: 

"  You  haven't  let  any  of  the  rooms  to-night,  I  hope." 

"  Only  the  cockloft." 


6  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  Who  did  you  let  have  that?  " 

"  I  don't  know — an  old  fellow  from  the  mountains — 
addled,  he  seemed  to  be;  had  been  hunting  old  birds'  nests." 

"  That's  strange." 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,  his  face  was  fine — Frenchy. 
He  had  a  fine  manner,  too.  But  he  didn't  seem  to  know 
anything — sort  of  a  hermit  wanderer,  whose  wits  had 
gone;  he  had  long  hair." 

The  Honorable  Judge  Rush  tapped  the  landlord  on 
the  shoulder  after  hearing  the  description. 

"  How  do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  but  the  stranger  in 
the  top  room  may  be  Audubon? " 

The  clerk  stood  as  if  transfixed.  He  had  never  heard 
of  Audubon  before,  but  he  recalled  that  the  stranger  that 
he  had  sent  to  the  garret  had  a  remarkable  face,  although 
it  was  scarred  and  torn.  The  judge  had  spoken  the  name 
in  a  tone  of  reverence. 

"  I  will  go  up  and  see,"  said  the  landlord. 

The  clerk  was  excited.  If  he  had  treated  a  man  of 
importance  in  a  rude  way  would  the  landlord  overlook 
the  blunder? 

There  was  loud  talking  in  tones  of  surprise  in  the  cock- 
loft. The  landlord  was  coming  down  the  stairs,  repeat- 
ing apology  after  apology. 

The  clerk  heard  a  musical  voice  saying: 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it;  don't  mention  it.  The  clerk 
judged  me  hastily  by  my  woodsy  appearance.  I  overlook 


A  SURPRISED  CLERK  7 

it  all — it  is  I  that  caused  him  to  be  uncivil.  It  is  all 
right — all  right." 

The  legal  party,  headed  by  Judge  Rush,  awaited  in 
the  office  the  return  of  the  landlord.  The  latter  came 
into  view  on  the  stairs,  followed  by  the  stranger. 

Judge  Eush  bent  over  at  the  sight,  saying,  after  the 
old-time  manner,  with  his  hand  on  his  breast: 

"Have  I  the  honor?" 

Each  of  the  fourteen  or  more  lawmakers  followed  his 
example,  placing  their  hands  on  their  breasts,  and  saying: 

"Have  I  the  honor?" 

"  Honorable  gentlemen,"  said  the  landlord,  "  let  me 
present  to  you  one  who  is  making  our  country  known  to 
the  world  as  few  men  are  or  can,  the  naturalist  who  will 
sit  at  the  head  of  the  table  to-night — John  James  Au- 
dubon!" 

Every  one  bowed  respectfully. 

"Clerk!"  shouted  the  landlord. 

But  the  "  clerk  "  had  disappeared.  He  was  seen  fly- 
ing through  the  openings  of  the  trail  out  of  which  the 
stranger  with  the  eagle's  nest  had  appeared.  He  was  not 
prepared  to  serve  at  the  table  that  evening,  with  John 
James  Audubon  at  the  head  and  the  judge  next  in  order. 

It  is  a  cabin  tale,  and  I  use  it  here  to  introduce  the 
reader  to  a  very  remarkable  man  to  whom  America  owes 
a  debt  of  increasing  gratitude. 


CHAPTER    II 

A    LITTLE    BIRD    THAT    DIED 

THE  life  of  John  James  Laforest  *  Audubon  reads  like 
a  wonder  tale.  He  was  born  in  New  Orleans,  May  4, 
1780,  in  a  house  in  whose  gardens  the  mocking-birds  sang. 

He  was  a  wonderful  boy.  His  father  was  a  French 
naval  officer,  sometimes  called  "  admiral."  His  mother 
died  when  he  was  fourteen;  his  father  married  again,  and 
his  new  wife  became  dotingly  fond  of  her  little  stepson, 
who  had  genius,  grace,  and  beauty,  and  a  heart  overflow- 
ing with  love.  His  new  mother  thought  him  the  "  hand- 
somest child  in  France." 

In  childhood  his  heart  went  out  to  birds;  he  seemed 
to  love  and  almost  worship  everything  that  had  wings. 

He  was  taken  to  Santo  Domingo,  where  his  Spanish 
mother  lost  her  life  in  the  insurrection  of  the  blacks.  He 
returned  with  his  father  to  New  Orleans,  and  lived  amid 
the  charms  of  a  mossy  plantation  outside  of  New  Orleans — 
probably  the  same  that  Louis  Philippe  came  to  call  "  Fon- 
taine plain." 

*  Although  Laforest  is  omitted  in  many  biographies,  Audubon's  orig- 
inal name  was  John  James  Laforest,  and  his  wife  addressed  him  as 
"Laforest."— H.  B. 
8 


A  LITTLE  BIRD  THAT  DIED  9 

The  New  Orleans  plantation  where  he  dwelt  was  full 
of  birds;  in  the  morning  the  dewy  air  was  filled  with 
song.  There  were  joyous  wings  in  the  gray  moss  of  the 
glistening  green  leaves  of  the  magnolias.  Gem-like  hum- 
ming-birds flitted  among  the  trumpet-creepers,  and  hung 
pendent  from  the  orange  and  crimson  flowers.  The  song 
of  the  mocking-bird  thrilled  him  as  it  floated  through  the 
regions  of  the  air.  He  followed  it  as  if  it  were  a  celestial 
being;  he  heard  in  it  an  expression  of  nature  that  came 
from  the  benevolent  heart  of  the  Omniscient. 

"Hush!  His  the  mocking-bird/7  he  may  have  said  to 
those  around  him.  "  Why  should  we  prattle  when  a  true 
poet  was  singing  as  at  the  very  gate  of  heaven?  " 

He  had  a  passion  for  painting  birds.  His  family  de- 
lighted to  follow  his  development  in  this  art. 

One  day  he  found  a  live  bird  of  beautiful  plumage, 
and  brought  it  gently  to  his  room  with  a  palpitating  heart. 
The  lovely  creature  charmed  him,  and  he  dreamed  of  it 
day  by  day.  As  he  studied  it  the  bird  grew  more  beau- 
tiful, and  he  loved  it  more  and  more.  He  awoke  early 
to  visit  its  cage;  he  fed  it  often.  But  the  thought  of  the 
bird  seemed  far  away  among  the  magnolias  or  in  the 
rice  and  cotton  fields.  Her  mate  may  have  been  there. 
The  close  room  and  the  loving  boy  were  not  the  open 
air,  the  blue,  sun-flaming  sky,  or  the  brother  and  sister 
birds  of  flower-haunted  Louisiana.  The  little  bird  pined 
away  notwithstanding  the  boy's  love  and  care. 


10  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Little  Audubon  found  it  dead  one  morning.  His  heart 
seemed  to  stand  still;  his  eyes  became  suffused  with  tears. 

"  My  bird,  my  darling  bird!  I  can  not  let  it  go!  I 
will  not — it  shall  not  go !  " 

"  But  what  will  you  do,  my  boy  ?  "  asked  his  fond 
father. 

"  I  will  paint  it,  and  it  shall  live  again;  it  is  too  beau- 
tiful to  lose!" 

He  sat  down  and  transferred  the  bird  with  all  of  its 
delicate  coloring  to  the  paper.  Then  they  took  the  form 
away  and  buried  it;  but  he  had  it  still  in  picture,  and  he 
loved  to  dream  of  or  imagine  the  field  note  of  the  little 
bird  that  died. 

His  home  in  Louisiana  was  full  of  sunshine  and  love, 
of  beauty  and  bloom,  and  tender  hearts.  It  was  a  home 
of  wealth,  but  his  heart  was  strange  in  it. 

"  I  love  nature  more  than  anything  else.  I  was  born 
for  the  woods;  I  hear  voices  in  the  trees.  I  do  not  care 
much  for  other  things.  I  was  born  with  an  idea!  " 

So  he  thought  of  himself.  In  the  midst  of  his  life 
among  the  sun  birds  of  the  wide  fields  of  Louisiana  his 
father  was  summoned  to  France,  and  he  took  his  lively 
boy  with  him. 


CHAPTER   III 

DECISIVE    HOURS THE    STORY    OF    POOR    POLLY    AND 

THE    MONKEY 

IT  was  at  Mantes,  the  seaport  of  France,  the  ancient 
home  of  the  dukes  of  Bretagne,  and  the  resting-place  of 
the  old  French  kings,  that  young  Audubon  took  up  the 
charmed  life  of  his  childhood,  doted  on  by  his  susceptible 
stepmother,  taught  music,  dancing,  and  other  polite  ac- 
complishments. But  amid  all  the  luxuries  of  the  society 
of  a  family  of  a  naval  officer  in  the  days  of  the  first  em- 
pire the  boy  caught  the  voice  of  a  bird.  To  him  it  was 
as  a  song  from  heaven. 

He  followed  it  out  into  nature,  and  nature,  as  on  the 
old  Louisiana  plantation,  began  to  enthrall  him  again, 

Nantes  was  full  of  noble  and  delightful  promenades 
that  led  down  to  the  great  harbor.  To  these,  out-of-door 
life  might  have  tempted  him;  but  no,  he  must  wander 
into  the  far  woods  and  hear  the  new  songs  of  birds  and 
study  living  colors.  He  made  two  hundred  pictures  of 
birds.  In  doing  this  he  formed  the  pattern  of  his  whole  life. 

The  old  commodore,  or  "  admiral,"  his  father,  came 
sailing  back  from  the  scenes  of  the  great  sea  exploits  of 

the  time. 

11 


12  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

The  French  Revolution  had  passed,  and  the  career  of 
Napoleon  was  now  dazzling  France.  The  elder  Audubon's 
heart  seemed  to  dance  at  the  thought  that  the  eagles  of 
Napoleon  would  outshine  those  of  Rome  in  glory. 

"  Oh,  could  I  have  a  son  that  would  become  great 
on  the  sea!"  he  thought.  "I  must  place  John  James 
in  the  naval  academy." 

He  came  to  his  home  to  find  his  boy  a  fondling  of 
society,  with  his  ears  charmed  by  birds. 

He  determined  to  break  off  these  pursuits  and  to  place 
him  in  a  naval  school. 

So  one  day  he  started  for  a  naval  training  school  a 
long  distance  from  Nantes,  taking  his  gentle  son  with 
him. 

He  thought  that  he  must  be  stern  with  his  son  now. 
So  the  two  rode  in  silence  together  for  several  days.  The 
boy  naturalist  must  be  hardened  for  life  on  the  sea. 

The  boy  obeyed  him,  or  tried  to  do  so,  but  his  heart 
and  imagination  turned  to  the  American  forests  and  to 
the  songs  of  the  birds.  He  studied  mathematics  indeed, 
but  he  began  to  wander  into  the  woods  again,  and  re- 
turned to  Nantes. 

"  Give  up  birds  and  mosses  and  all  such  things  as 
those,"  said  his  father.  "  You  must  prepare  to  follow  the 
armies  of  Napoleon  and  the  eagles  of  France." 

"  But,  father,  I  do  not  care  for  wealth  or  fame;  I 
love  nature." 


DECISIVE  HOURS  13 

"  Yes,  the  boy  loves  nature,"  said  an  old  Frenchwoman 
with  a  snowy  kerchief  and  cap  who  was  knitting  on  the 
balcony  near  the  open  window  looking  out  on  the  sea 
where  the  father  and  son  were.  "  He  loves  nature,  and 
his  heart  has  eyes  for  nature.  Do  not  put  out  his  eyes. 
I  can  see  what  he  ought  to  be,  Captain  Audubon;  I  have 
the  '  open  vision '  sometimes.  He  ought  to  paint  birds — 
American  birds.  Oh,  it  makes  my  heart  go  pitapat  to 
hear  him  talk  of  the  birds  in  the  magnolia  groves  of  the 
far-away  Louisiana  plantations!  " 

The  old  woman  had  been  his  governess  or  teacher,  and 
represented  the  Audubon  household.  She  had  knit  and 
knit  since  the  dark  days  when  her  family  had  been  de- 
stroyed in  the  Eevolution.  They  called  her  the  "  Knitter 
of  Nantes." 

The  boy  was  grateful  to  the  old  woman  for  what  she 
had  said.  He  believed  her  to  be  a  kind  of  prophetess,  and 
he  went  and  stood  by  her  chair. 

She  let  her  work  fall  into  her  lap. 

He  was  a  picture  of  beauty  as  he  stood  beside  her 
in  his  velvets.  His  eyes  were  aglow  as  with  the  light 
of  the  hope  of  the  future;  his  hair  was  long,  and  he 
wore  it  so  during  most  of  his  perilous  life.  He  loved 
his  father,  but  his  soul  rose  in  him  now,  and  he  must 
speak. 

"Say  on,"  said  the  "Knitter  of  Nantes."  "Speak 
up,  and  don't  be  afraid." 


14:  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  Father,  the  good  woman  speaks  true.  I  wish  to 
make  you  happy,  but,  father,  I  would  never  rise  in  the 
navy;  my  heart  has  another  calling,  and  my  good  teacher 
here  has  spoken  it.  Let  me  paint  birds — the  birds  of 
America — and  I  will  one  day  have  the  gratitude  of 
kings." 

"  The  gratitude  of  kings,  my  son!  But  you  just  said 
that  you  did  not  care  for  fame." 

"  No ;  but  I  would  love  to  have  the  world  feel  grate- 
ful to  me  for  doing  my  best." 

"  Do  I  hear  my  ears? " 

The  Knitter  rose,  dropping  her  needles  and  her  work 
on  to  the  floor. 

"  Captain  Audubon,  listen.  There  are  voices  of  old 
wisdom  that  come  to  me  now,  and  I  must  deliver  my 
message.  It  is  this — boy,  listen:  'Neglect  not  the  gift  that 
is  in  thee.'  Captain,  hear:  '  Seest  thou  a  man  diligent 
in  his  business?  he  shall  stand  before  Icings;  he  shall  not 
stand  before  mean  men.7  That  is  all." 

She  sat  down,  picked  up  her  knitting,  and  her  needles 
flew  in  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

The  boy  stepped  back  to  his  father,  and  said: 

"  You  love  France.  It  is  your  birthplace;  but  Amer- 
ica, O  my  America!  that  is  my  birthplace." 

"  My  boy,  can  I  imagine  that  you  would  do  anything 
for  America  that  would  ever  receive  the  signature  of  the 
Ungt" 


DECISIVE  HOURS  15 

"  I  can,  father — my  soul  shows  me  what  I  can  do, 
what  I  can  be  and  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"What,  my  son?" 

"  To  be  an  American  artist.  To  be  that  I  would  be 
willing  to  suffer,  and  to  do  perfect  work  I  would  sacrifice 
anything,  and  I  would  be  true  to  the  work  to  which  God 
calls  me." 

"  You  would  be  willing  to  sacrifice — to  give  up — to 
suffer?  Oh,  my  boy,  you  disappoint  me;  and  yet — and  yet 
ought  I  not  to  be  grateful  to  Heaven  for  a  child  with  a 
gift  like  yours  ?  " 

The  Knitter  bowed  her  head. 

Captain  Audubon  sat  for  some  time  in  silence.  He, 
too,  loved  America.  To  paint  America  would  be  a  noble 
calling. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said  at  last,  "  it  may  be  that  your 
calling  comes  from  within.  You  may  go  to  America, 
your  own  beloved  America,  if  you  wish,  and  my  bless- 
ing shall  go  with  you.  To  picture  America  is  a  noble 
thought — next  to  being  a  soldier.  And  your  aspiration 
to  do  work  that  will  receive  the  gratitude  of  a  king  is 
also  a  noble  one.  You  are  a  noble  boy,  but  if  ever  your 
work  receives  the  signature  of  a  king  bring  it  to  me, 
and  we  will  lock  hands  when  you  and  I  are  older  than 
now.  Wherever  you  are  and  whatever  you  may  be,  do 
perfect  work." 

"  Father,  I  love  you.    I  will  be  true  to  you,  and  that 


IQ  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

hour  will  come;  and  whether  you  are  living  or  dead,  I 
will  bless  you  then." 

Audubon  drew  the  pictures  of  birds  and  painted  them, 
but  he  outgrew  his  own  work  every  year. 

On  New-year's  day  he  destroyed  the  pictures  that 
he  had  made  the  year  before.  They  did  not  meet  his 
ideal. '  His  father  saw  that  he  needed  the  training  in  the 
best  schools  of  art. 

He  showed  the  old  Knitter  of  Nantes  his  new  pictures 
with  delight. 

"  I  have  brought  you  to-day,"  he  would  say  to  her,  "  a 
new  portfolio  of  birds." 

"Where  is  your  last  year's  portfolio?" 

"  I  put  it  into  the  fire  on  New-year's  day." 

"My  boy,  you  are  doing  well;  you  are  growing." 

His  father  sought  a  teacher  for  him. 

David,  the  painter  of  colossal  battre  scenes  and  of 
great  historical  events,  a  man  of  the  Revolution,  an  en- 
thusiast and  a  colorist,  was  then  a  leader  of  French  art. 
Pupils  came  to  him  from  many  cities,  and  he  helped  make 
many  of  them  famous.  Among  them  came  this  boy 
from  the  Louisiana  plantation,  where  the  nonpareils 
haunted  magnolias  and  mocking-birds  trilled  in  the  blaz- 
ing air. 

He  did  not  come  to  learn  to  paint  tragedies.  He  had 
a  tender  heart.  To  kill  a  bird  for  science  was  to  him 
a  tragedy,  and  he  shrunk  from  it.  But  he  could  learn 


DECISIVE  HOURS  17 

the  art  of  coloring  from  David,  and  this  art  was  essen- 
tial to  help  him  fulfil  the  purpose  of  his  soul. 

So  he  studied  under  the  painter  of  bloody  revolutions 
with  his  own  purpose  in  view. 

He  was  not  overawed  by  the  great  fame  of  David; 
he  kept  his  own  purpose.  And  herein  again  was  a  secret 
of  his  success.  He  wished  to  do  perfect  work,  and  he 
kept  to  his  ideal.  Amid  the  luxuries  and  splendors  of 
the  French  capital  he  dreamed  of  the  mighty  forests  of 
America  that  he  would  one  day  reveal  to  mankind  through 
perfect  pictures  of  its  birds. 

His  chosen  subject  for  life  was  American  birds.  His 
dream  was  to  do  perfect  work. 

He  probably  did  not  see  at  this  time  what  the  value 
of  this  work  would  be  to  the  world.  He  may  not  then 
have  had  a  vision  of  a  stupendous  book  on  ornithology. 
No,  he  was  not  thinking  of  himself,  but  only  of  this — 
that  God  had  made  him  a  lover  of  nature,  and  given 
him  power  to  see  her  secret,  and  he  must  do  perfect  work 
for  the  birds  of  the  forest  and  field.  Perfect  work — 
herein  is  the  great  lesson  of  his  life. 

Herein  was  the  key-note  of  his  ultimate  success — per- 
fect work.  To  do  anything  but  perfect  work  would  be 
an  injustice  to  the  winged  pilgrims  of  the  air.  He  had 
set  himself  to  paint  birds.  He  must  be  true  to  the  bird, 
and  he  must  destroy  his  pictures  until  they  presented  the 
truth. 


18  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

He  must  know  a  bird  and  see  it  in  its  native  wilds 
before  he  could  paint  it  well.  If  one  would  succeed  in 
any  art  one  must  pay  the  price.  Was  he  willing  to  do 
it?  Yes,  he  would  gladly  forsake  society  and  become  an 
inhabitant  of  the  woods  if  that  would  make  him  the  true 
artist.  He  saw  what  his  life  should  be,  and  it  was  his 
meat  and  drink  to  pursue  it. 

The  boy  grew  to  young  manhood  and  set  sail  for  New 
York — new  York?  He  could  cross  the  city  in  a  short 
walk  then.  Could  he  have  dreamed  that  his  statue  one 
day  would  adorn  the  city  when  it  should  have  more  than 
three  million  inhabitants,  and  all  because  he  loved  Amer- 
ica, did  perfect  work,  and  was  true  to  the  gift  of  his 
soul! 

Ideals  are  dreams.  Young  Audubon  returned  to  Amer- 
ica with  the  resolution  not  only  to  dream,  but  to  fulfil  his 
father's  hopes  by  "  perfect  work." 

The  admiral's  own  words  in  regard  to  life  were  as 
follows:  "  Talents  and  knowledge  added  to  sound  mental 
training,  assisted  by  honest  industry,  can  never  fail." 

In  a  manuscript  found  in  a  barn  on  Staten  Island  en- 
titled "  Myself  "  he  relates  a  tale  of  the  beginning  of  the 
inspiration  which  sought  to  make  him  the  protector  of 
birds  and  animals  from  the  brutal  instincts  of  man. 

His  story  is  as  follows: 

"  One  incident  which  is  as  perfect  in  my  memory  as 
if  it  had  occurred  this  very  day  I  have  thought  of  thou- 


DECISIVE  HOURS  19 

sands  of  times  since,  and  will  now  put  on  paper  as  one 
of  the  curious  things  which  perhaps  did  lead  me  in  after 
times  to  love  birds,  and  to  finally  study  them  with  pleas- 
ure infinite.  My  mother  had  several  beautiful  parrots 
and  some  monkeys;  one  of  the  latter  was  a  full-grown 
male,  of  a  very  large  species.  One  morning,  while  the 
servants  were  engaged  in  arranging  the  room  I  was  in, 
'  pretty  Polly '  asking  for  her  breakfast  as  usual — '  Du 
pain  au  lait  pour  le  per  roquet  Mignonne  ' — the  man  of  the 
woods  probably  thought  the  bird  presuming  upon  his  rights 
in  the  scale  of  nature.  Be  this  as  it  may,  he  certainly 
showed  his  supremacy  in  strength  over  the  denizen  of  the 
air,  for,  walking  deliberately  and  uprightly  toward  the  poor 
bird,  he  at  once  killed  it  with  unnatural  composure.  The 
sensations  of  my  infant  heart  at  this  cruel  sight  were  agony 
to  me.  I  prayed  the  servant  to  beat  the  monkey,  but  he, 
who  for  some  reason  preferred  the  monkey  to  the  parrot, 
refused.  I  uttered  long  and  piercing  cries,  my  mother 
rushed  into  the  room,  I  was  tranquilized,  the  monkey  was 
forever  afterward  chained,  and  Mignonne  buried  with  all 
the  pomp  of  a  cherished  lost  one. 

"  This  made,  as  I  have  said,  a  very  deep  impression  on 
my  youthful  mind." 

He  sometimes  destroyed  life  for  scientific  purposes,  but 
always  with  regret.  The  use  of  the  camera  has  lessened 
even  such  an  excuse  for  the  destruction  of  innocent  life. 
Only  a  mean  mind  and  a  low  nature  can  be  cruel. 


20 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 


While  a  pupil  of  David  he  witnessed  many  events  that 
haunted  his  mind  in  America.  Let  us  picture  one: 

It  was  a  notable  day  among  the  scientists  of  Paris. 
Audubon  was  a  pupil  there,  and  the  Knitter  of  Nantes,  his 
old  teacher,  had  come  to  the  city,  and  he  was  glad  to  show 
her  the  galleries  of  art. 

Excepting  Napoleon,  Alexander  von  Humboldt  was  the 
most  popular  man  in  France  and  the  most  notable  one  in 

all  Europe.  To  meet  him  was  to 
see  one  who  was  more  than  a 
king.  Had  he  not  made  South 
America  known  to  the  world, 
ascended  icy  Chimborazo  and 
burning  Cotopaxi,  mapped  the 
Orinoco  and  the  Amazon,  discov- 
ered the  isothermal  lines,  the  pe- 
riodicity of  meteors,  and  re- 
mapped the  heavens  from  the 
high  Andes? 

What  king,  even  Napoleon,  had  achieved  such  triumphs 
of  human  knowledge?  This  man  was  to  appear  at  the 
Academy.  He,  too,  was  a  lover  of  birds,  and  of  all  persons 
in  the  world  young  Audubon  wished  to  see  the  great  sci- 
entist whose  books  on  the  cosmos  formed  a  library  of  natu- 
ral history,  geography,  animals,  birds,  and  plants,  with  more 
than  twelve  hundred  copperplates. 

He   was   to   appear   at   the   Academy,    and   the   port- 


t^/tistodrvL^Cfc. 


DECISIVE  HOURS  21 

folios  of  his  invaluable  discoveries  were  to  be  on  exhibi- 
tion. 

Audubon,  as  an  art  student,  obtained  permission  to  see 
the  folios  of  the  great  savant,  and  he  took  the  .Knitter 
with  him.  He  loved  her  because  she  had  prophesied  good 
of  him. 

The  two  passed  along  the  gay  streets  and  into  the  halls 
made  renowned  by  Cuvier.  They  entered  the  exhibition 
room  where  the  priceless  books  lay  under  guard. 

After  they  had  seen  them  they  sat  down  together  on  a 
seat  apart  from  those  allotted  to  the  members  of  the  Acad- 
emy, and  waited  for  the  great  Humboldt  to  arrive. 

"  He  used  to  be  a  feeble  boy,"  said  the  Knitter,  "  and 
they  did  not  regard  him  as  very  bright;  but  he  loved  plants, 
and  they  called  him  the  '  little  apothecary.'  He  associates 
with  kings  now." 

"  But  he  lived  for  his  cosmology,"  said  Audubon.  "  He 
never  thought  of  associating  with  kings  in  his  early  studies. 
He  exiled  himself  for  the  true  knowledge  of  science." 

The  members  were  coming  in,  many  of  them  wearing 
decorations. 

At  last  the  hall  rang  with  sudden  applause.  Humboldt 
appeared,  and  on  his  heart  shone  a  golden  star  that  had 
been  given  him  by  the  Russian  court.  He  wore  the  decora- 
tions of  greatest  royal  societies. 

How  grand  he  looked — that  wonderful  man  who  had 
trod  the  summits  of  the  Andes,  sailed  the  unknown  rivers 


22  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

under  the  Southern  Cross,  and  enriched  the  charts  of  the 
stars ! 

Society  people  took  snuff  in  those  days,  or  pretended 
to  do  so.  It  was  a  sign  of  hospitality  among  such  men  as 
these  rather  than  habit,  and  a  snuff-box  was  passed  around. 

It  was  made  of  gold,  and  was  studded  with  jewels.  It 
gleamed. 

"  The  Emperor  of  Russia  gives  snuff-boxes  to  those  who 
most  benefit  mankind,"  said  the  Knitter  of  Nantes  to  young 
Audubon.  "  It  may  be  he  will  send  you  one  some  day." 

The  boy  naturalist  started. 

"  Why  do  you  dream  such  things  as  that  ?  It  is  your 
heart  that  dreams.  But  how  dare  I  to  say  it — I  see  what 
I  would  most  like  to  be  in  that  man." 

"  And  ideals  grow,"  said  the  Knitter.  "  It  is  like  the 
pattern  seen  by  Moses  on  the  Mount  of  Vision.  The  pat- 
tern became  a  tabernacle,  the  tabernacle  the  temple,  the 
temple  the  church,  and  all  was  like  a  chart  of  heaven.  A 
man  may  do  what  he  sees." 

The  golden  snuff-box  gleamed  as  they  passed  it  round. 
Then  the  speaker  of  the  society  rapped  on  the  table,  and 
the  snuff-box  vanished  from  sight,  and  all  was  still. 

Humboldt  arose,  king-decorated.  Why  did  he  thus 
appear?  He  loved  plants — the  blooming  earth.  Was  it 
not  as  noble  to  love  birds — the  singing  world  ? 

The  "  little  apothecary "  had  studied  the  stars  from 
the  crystal  heights  of  the  Andes.  He  would  one  day  view 


DECISIVE  HOURS  23 

them  from  the  Ural  and  Altai  Mountains.     It  was  plants 

that  had  showed  him  the  way. 

The  Knitter  and  the  boy  went  out,  and  the  good  woman 

dropped  these  golden  words  on  the  crimsoned  twilight  air: 
"  The  little  apothecary?    He  can  who  thinks  he  can." 
"  If  he  do  perfect  work/7  answered  Audubon.     "  Such 

work  I  will  do — there  lies  the  merit." 


CHAPTER  IV 


To  do  perfect  work  in  his  chosen  field  young  Audubon 
must  live  with  nature.  He  must  live  so  as  to  have  clear 
vision. 

His  father  had  given  the  child  Audubon  a  book  on 
birds;  it  had  proved  a  suggestion  to  his  art,  a  guide-post 
to  the  leafy  and  solitary  way.  The  progress  that  the  child 
made  had  delighted  his  father,  and  the  amiable  admiral 
prepared  to  surprise  the  boy  with  another  gift  that  would 
tend  to  enlarge  his  studies. 

He  gave  him  the  privilege  of  a  nature  studio.  And  what 
a  studio  it  was — a  plantation  in  the  noble  State  of  Pennsyl- 
vania— Penn's  wood — surrounded  by  gigantic  woodlands, 
long  meadows,  and  towering  hills,  through  which  wound  a 
brook  of  living  water,  where  the  song-birds  sang  in  summer 
and  sheltered  themselves  in  winter,  where  the  great  branches 
roofed  the  current  and  flowers  carpeted  the  bank! 

The  estate  had  been  purchased  by  his  father  in  the  days 
of  the  Revolution,  and  he  had  sent  an  agent  to  develop  it. 

The  young  painter  went  to  the  bowery  Pennsylvania 

estate.     But  it  was  not  enough  that  he  should  be  shut  out 
24 


YOUNG  AUDUBON'S  CAVE  25 

from  the  great  world  in  the  Pennsylvania  woods,  even  in 
the  estate.  He  must  have  further  seclusion  to  do  the  most 
perfect  work. 

There  were  great  rocks  on  the  woodsy  estate,  and  in 
one  of  them  was  a  cave.  Here  the  natural  flowers  glowed 
among  the  green  ferns. 

The  flycatchers  seemed  to  own  the  cave;  here  was  the 
summer  city  of  these  little  pilgrims  of  the  air.  The  boy 
Audubon  wished  to  study  these  birds  that  came  in  the 
spring  with  the  tropic  sun  on  their  wings. 

His  coming  filled  the  colony  of  birds  with  terror.  But 
Audubon  knew  how  to  make  friends  with  the  birds.  Some- 
thing seemed  to  teach  him  how  to  charm  the  eye  and  win 
the  affection  of  a  bird. 

So  he  went  out  to  this  rock  room  of  his  great  Pennsyl- 
vania studio,  and  sat  down  in  kindly  silence  to  see  the  gentle 
flycatchers  come  and  go.  He  made  it  easy  for  them  to 
fly  near  him,  and  nearer,  until  their  tiny  wings  almost 
fanned  him  as  they  glided  by. 

He  watched  them  as  they  built  their  nests.  In  a  week 
the  birds  seemed  to  know  him.  They  no  longer  made  their 
nests  with  fear. 

A  pair  of  these  birds  had  had  a  nest  in  the  cave  a  year 
before — perhaps  years  before.  They  began  to  repair  it. 
Had  they  remembered  this  nest  in  their  semitropical  wan- 
derings ? 

These  birds  seemed  to  have  a  sense  of  their  family  hap- 


26  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

piness  in  the  coming  summer.  They  repaired  the  old  nest 
as  if  they  were  preparing  for  the  June  and  July  days  of 
their  growing  broods.  They  seemed  to  anticipate. 

Young  Audubon's  heart  entered  into  these  anticipa- 
tions. He  watched  them  as  they  lined  their  nest. 

One  day  they  came  back  with  swift  wings  that  seemed 
to  tremble  with  joy.  They  had  found  some  downy  geese 
feathers,  possibly  torn  from  a  goose  among  the  briers  or 
shed  on  the  waters.  Here  was  upholstery  worthy  of  a 
king.  They  mingled  it  with  the  down  lining.  Then  their 
notes  rang  out  with  exultant  sweetness. 

And  young  Audubon,  in  his  leafy  studio,  sat  and  asked 
the  questions  that  we  find  in  the  book  of  Job:  How  came 
these  happy  wings  by  these  instincts  and  intuitions? 
Whence  came  these  lessons  of  inward  wisdom  more  won- 
derful than  reason?  "When  came  they — where?  There  was 
a  divinity  behind  it  all.  ~No  waters  flow  without  a  source, 
no  song  fills  the  air  without  an  origin,  there  is  no  evolution 
without  an  evolver. 

So  for  the  sake  of  doing  artistic  justice  to  this  bird  of 
the  south  and  northern  summer,  Audubon  became  one  of 
the  family  of  the  pewee,  and  was  adopted  by  it  as  a  spirit 
of  the  woods. 

Think  of  a  young  man  who  had  shared  the  luxuries  of 
a  Louisiana  plantation  and  seen  the  splendors  of  French 
life  finding  content  in  a  rocky  cave  with  the  pewees!  But 
the  true  artist  can  find  his  home  in  his  purpose  of  life,  and 


YOUNG  AUDUBON'S  CAVE  27 

is  only  content  there.  Whatever  happens,  he  must  do  per- 
fect work;  no  other  work  can  satisfy  him.  This  is  his  tide, 
and  the  "  current  knows  the  way." 

He  came  to  Pennsylvania  with  the  suggestion  for  his 
life.  He  brought,  as  it  were,  his  pattern  with  him.  How 
was  he  to  fulfil  this  work  which  he  saw  in  outline? 

He  must  adopt  the  best  methods  of  study  that  he  could 
command.  These  methods  were  so  interesting  and  decisive 
that  we  give  a  view  of  them  here  in  his  own  words: 

"MY  STYLE  OF  DRAWING  BIRDS 

"  When,  as  a  little  lad,  I  first  began  my  attempts  at 
representing  birds  on  paper  I  was  far  from  possessing  much 
knowledge  of  their  nature,  and,  like  hundreds  of  others, 
when  I  had  laid  the  effort  aside  I  was  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  a  finished  picture  of  a  bird  because  it  possessed 
some  sort  of  a  head  and  tail  and  two  sticks  in  lieu  of  legs. 
I  never  troubled  myself  with  the  thought  that  abutments 
were  requisite  to  prevent  it  from  falling  either  backward 
or  forward;  and  oh,  what  bills  and  claws  I  did  draw,  to 
say  nothing  of  a  perfectly  straight  line  for  a  back,  and  a 
tail  stuck  in  anyhow,  like  an  unshipped  rudder! 

"  Many  persons  besides  my  father  saw  my  miserable  at- 
tempts, and  so  many  praised  them  to  the  skies  that  perhaps 
no  one  was  ever  nearer  being  completely  wrecked  than  I 
by  these  mistaken  though  affectionate  words.  My  father, 
however,  spoke  very  differently  to  me.  He  constantly  im- 


28  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

pressed  upon  me  that  nothing  in  the  world  possessing  life 
and  animation  was  easy  to  imitate,  and  that  as  I  grew  older 
he  hoped  I  would  become  more  and  more  alive  to  this.  He 
was  so  kind  to  me,  and  so  deeply  interested  in  my  improve- 
ment, that  to  have  listened  carelessly  to  his  serious  words 
would  have  been  highly  ungrateful.  I  listened  less  to 
others,  more  to  him,  and  his  words  became  my  law." 
He  was  growing  now.  He  thus  continues: 
"  The  first  collection  of  drawings  I  made  were  from 
European  specimens,  procured  by  my  father  or  myself, 
and  I  still  have  them  in  my  possession.  They  were  all  rep- 
resented strictly  ornithologically,  which  means  neither  more 
nor  less  than  in  stiff,  unmeaning  profiles,  such  as  are  found 
in  most  works  published  to  the  present  day.  My  next  set 
was  begun  in  America,  and  there,  without  my  honored 
mentor,  I  betook  myself  to  the  drawing  of  specimens  hung 
by  a  string  tied  to  one  foot,  having  a  desire  to  show  every 
portion,  as  the  wings  lay  loosely  spread,  as  well  as  the  tail. 
In  this  manner  I  made  some  pretty  fair  signs  for  poulterers. 
"  One  day,  while  watching  the  habits  of  a  pair  of  pe- 
wees  at  Mill  Grove  I  looked  so  intently  at  their  graceful 
attitudes  that  a. thought  struck  my  mind  like  a  flash  of 
light,  that  nothing,  after  all,  could  ever  answer  my  enthusi- 
astic desires  to  represent  nature  except  to  copy  her  in  her 
own  way,  alive  and  moving!  Then  I  began  again.  On  I 
went,  forming,  literally,  hundreds  of  outlines  of  my  favor- 
ites, the  pewees;  how  good  or  bad  I  can  not  tell,  but  I 


YOUNG  AUDUBON'S  CAVE  29 

fancied  I  had  mounted  a  step  on  the  high  pinnacle  before 
me.  I  continued  for  months  together  simply  outlining 
birds  as  I  observed  them,  either  alighted  or  on  the  wing, 
but  could  finish  none  of  my  sketches.  I  procured  many 
individuals  of  different  species,  and  laying  them  on  the 
table  or  on  the  ground,  tried  to  place  them  in  such  atti- 
tudes as  I  had  sketched.  But  alas!  they  were  dead,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  and  neither  wing,  leg,  nor  tail  could 
I  place  according  to  my  wishes.  A  second  thought  came  to 
my  assistance.  By  means  of  threads  I  raised  or  lowered  a 
head,  wing  or  tail,  and  by  fastening  the  threads  securely 
I  had  something  like  life  before  me;  yet  much  was  want- 
ing. When  I  saw  the  living  birds  I  felt  the  blood  rush 
to  my  temples,  and  almost  in  despair  spent  about  a  month 
without  drawing,  but  in  deep  thought,  and  daily  in  the 
company  of  the  feathered  inhabitants  of  dear  Mill  Grove. 

"  I  had  drawn  from  the  manikin  while  under  David, 
and  had  obtained  tolerable  figures  of  our  species  through 
this  means,  so  I  cogitated  how  far  a  manikin  of  a  bird  would 
answer.  I  labored  with  mud,  cork,  and  wires,  and  formed 
a  grotesque  figure,  which  I  can  not  describe  in  any  other 
words  than  by  saying  that  when  set  up  it  was  a  tolerable- 
looking  dodo.  A  friend  roused  my  ire  by  laughing  at  it 
immoderately,  and  assuring  me  that  if  I  wished  to  repre- 
sent a  tame  gander  it  might  do.  I  gave  it  a  kick,  broke  it 
to  atoms,  walked  off,  and  thought  again. 

"  Young  as  I  was,  my  impatience  to  obtain  my  desire 


30  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  ATJDUBON 

filled  my  brains  with  many  plans.  I  not  infrequently 
dreamed  that  I  had  made  a  new  discovery;  and  long  before 
day  one  morning  I  leaped  out  of  bed  fully  persuaded  that 
I  had  attained  my  object.  I  ordered  a  horse  to  be  saddled, 
mounted,  and  went  off  at  a  gallop  toward  the  little  village 
of  Norristown,  distant  about  five  miles.  When  I  arrived 
there  not  a  door  was  open,  for  it  was  not  yet  daylight. 
Therefore  I  went  to  the  river,  took  a  bath,  and,  returning 
to  the  town,  entered  the  first  open  shop,  inquired  for  wires 
of  different  sizes,  bought  some,  leaped  on  my  steed,  and  was 
soon  again  at  Mill  Grove.  The  wife  of  my  tenant,  I  really 
believe,  thought  that  I  was  mad,  as,  on  offering  me  break- 
fast, I  told  her  I  only  wanted  my  gun.  I  was  off  to  the 
creek,  and  shot  the  first  kingfisher  I  met.  I  picked  the  bird 
up,  carried  it  home  by  the  bill,  sent  for  the  miller,  and  bade 
him  bring  me  a  piece  of  board  of  soft  wood.  When  he  re- 
turned he  found  me  filing  sharp  points  to  some  pieces  of 
wire,  and  I  proceeded  to  show  him  what  I  meant  to  do.  I 
pierced  the  body  of  the  fishing  bird,  and  fixed  it  on  the 
board;  another  wire  passed  above  his  upper  mandible  held 
the  head  in  a  pretty  fair  attitude,  smaller  ones  fixed  the  feet 
according  to  my  notions,  and  even  common  pins  came  to  my 
assistance.  The  last  wire  proved  a  delightful  elevator  to  the 
bird's  tail,  and  at  last  there  stood  before  me  the  real  king- 
fisher. 

"  Think  not  that  my  lack  of  breakfast  was  at  all  in  my 
way.    !N~o,  indeed!    I  outlined  the  bird,  aided  by  compasses 


YOUNG  AUDUBON'S  CAVE  31 

and  my  eyes,  colored  it,  finished  it,  without  a  thought  of 
hunger.  My  honest  miller  stood  by  the  while,  and  was 
delighted  to  see  me  pleased.  This  is  what  I  shall  call  my 
first  drawing  actually  from  nature,  for  even  the  eye  of  the 
kingfisher  was  as  if  full  of  life  whenever  I  pressed  the  lids 
aside  with  my  finger. 

"  In  those  happy  days  of  my  youth  I  was  extremely 
fond  of  reading  what  I  still  call  the  delightful  fables  of 
La  Fontaine.  I  had  frequently  perused  the  one  entitled 
L'hirondelle  et  les  petits  oiseaux,  and  thought  much  of  the 
meaning  imparted  in  the  first  line,  which,  if  I  now  recollect 
rightly,  goes  on  to  say  that  '  quiconque  a  beaucoup  vu,  peut 
avoir  beaucoup  retenu.7  To  me  this  meant  that  to  study 
nature  was  to  ramble  through  her  domains  late  and  early, 
and  if  I  observed  all  as  I  should,  that  the  memory  of  what 
I  saw  would  at  least  be  of  service  to  me. 

"  '  Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise '  was  another  adage 
which  I  thought,  and  still  think,  of  much  value;  'tis  a  pity 
that  instead  of  being  merely  an  adage  it  has  not  become  a 
general  law.  I  have  followed  it  ever  since  I  was  a  child, 
and  am  ever  grateful  for  the  hint  it  conveyed. 

"  As  I  wandered,  mostly  bent  on  the  study  of  birds,  and 
with  a  wish  to  represent  all  those  found  in  our  woods  to 
the  best  of  my  powers,  I  gradually  became  acquainted  with 
their  forms  and  habits,  and  the  use  of  my  wires  was  im- 
proved by  constant  practice.  Whenever  I  produced  a 
better  representation  of  any  species  the  preceding  one  was 


32  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

destroyed,  and  after  a  time  I  laid  down  what  I  was  pleased 
to  call  a  constitution  of  my  manner  of  drawing  birds, 
formed  upon  natural  principles,  which  I  will  try  to  put 
briefly  before  you. 

"  The  gradual  knowledge  of  the  forms  and  habits  of 
the  birds  of  our  country  impressed  me  with  the  idea  that 
each  part  of  a  family  must  possess  a  certain  degree  of  affin- 
ity, distinguishable  at  sight  in  any  one  of  them.  The  pe- 
wees,  which  I  knew  by  experience  were  positively  fly- 
catchers, led  me  to  the  discovery  that  every  bird  truly  of 
that  genus  when  standing  was  usually  in  a  passive  atti- 
tude; that  they  sat  uprightly,  now  and  then  glancing  their 
eyes  upward  or  sidewise,  to  watch  the  approach  of  their 
insect  prey;  that  if  in  pursuit  of  this  prey  their  movements 
through  the  air  were  in  each  and  all  of  that  tribe  the 
same,  etc. 

"  Gallinaceous  birds  I  saw  were  possessed  of  movements 
and  positions  peculiar  to  them.  Among  the  water  birds 
also  I  found  characteristic  manners.  I  observed  that  the 
herons  walked  with  elegance  and  stateliness;  that,  in  fact, 
every  family  had  some  mark  by  which  it  could  be  known; 
and,  after  having  collected  many  ideas  and  much  material 
of  this  kind,  I  fairly  began,  in  greater  earnest  than  ever, 
the  very  collection  of  birds  of  America  which  is  now  being 
published. 

"  The  better  I  understood  my  subjects,  the  better  I 
became  able  to  represent  them  in  what  I  hoped  were  natu- 


YOUNG  AUDUBON'S  CAVE  33 

ral  positions.  The  bird  once  fixed  with  wires  on  squares, 
I  studied  as  a  lay  figure  before  me,  its  nature,  previously 
known  to  me  as  far  as  habits  went,  and  its  general  form 
having  been  frequently  observed.  Now  I  could  examine 
more  thoroughly  the  bill,  nostrils,  eyes,  legs,  and  claws,  as 
well  as  the  structure  of  the  wings  and  tail;  the  very  tongue 
was  of  importance  to  me,  and  I  thought  the  more  I  under- 
stood all  these  particulars  the  better  representations  I  made 
of  the  originals. 

"  My  drawings  at  first  were  made  altogether  in  water- 
colors,  but  they  wanted  softness  and  a  great  deal  of  finish. 
For  a  long  time  I  was  much  dispirited  at  this,  particularly 
when  vainly  endeavoring  to  imitate  birds  of  soft  and  downy 
plumage,  such  as  that  of  most  owls,  pigeons,  hawks,  and 
herons.  How  this  could  be  remedied  required  a  new  train 
of  thought  or  some  so-called  accident,  and  the  latter  came 
to  my  aid. 

"  One  day,  after  having  finished  a  miniature  portrait  of 
the  one  dearest  to  me  in  all  the  world,  a  portion  of  the 
face  was  injured  by  a  drop  of  water,  which  dried  where  it 
fell;  and  although  I  labored  a  great  deal  to  repair  the  dam- 
age, the  blur  still  remained.  Kecollecting  that  when  a 
pupil  of  David  I  had  drawn  heads  and  figures  in  different- 
colored  chalks,  I  resorted  to  a  piece  of  that  material  of 
the  tint  required  for  the  part,  applied  the  pigment,  rubbed 
the  place  with  a  cork  stump,  and  at  once  produced  the 

desired  effect. 
3 


34  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDTJBON 

"  My  drawings  of  owls  and  other  birds  of  similar  plu- 
mage were  much  improved  by  such  applications;  indeed, 
after  a  few  years  of  patience,  some  of  my  attempts  began 
almost  to  please  me,  and  I  have  continued  the  same  style 
ever  since,  and  that  now  is  for  more  than  thirty  years. 

"  While  traveling  in  Europe  as  well  as  America,  many 
persons  have  evinced  the  desire  to  draw  birds  in  my  man- 
ner, and  I  have  always  felt  much  pleasure  in  showing  it  to 
any  one  by  whom  I  hoped  ornithological  delineations  or 
portraitures  would  be  improved." 

Such  was  his  story,  and  in  trying  to  do  perfect  work 
his  purpose  in  life  grew.  Would  he  ever  be  able  to  fulfil 
the  old  Knitter's  vision? 


CHAPTER  Y 

A  STRANGE  ADVENTURE  ON  THE  ICE A  WEDDING  JOURNEY  IN 

AN  "ARK" 

THE  beautiful  farm  on  the  Schuylkill,  which  the  elder 
Audubon  had  secured  during  the  Revolution,  was  called 
Mill  Grove.  The  house  was  fine,  after  the  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  manner,  and  we  may  suppose  that  it  contained  one 
of  the  first  portraits  of  General  Washington.  For  just 
before  the  terrible  scenes  of  suffering  that  followed  the  en- 
campment of  the  American  army  at  Valley  Forge  "Wash- 
ington presented  a  portrait  of  himself,  by  an  artist  named 
Polk,  to  Captain  Audubon,  which  the  captain,  or  "  ad- 
miral," highly  valued,  and  it  is  hardly  probable  that  he 
had  removed  it  to  Nantes  at  this  time. 

Near  Mill  Grove,  and  in  view  of  it,  was  a  mansion  called 
Flatland  Ford,  where  lived  Mr.  William  Bakewell,  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman.  One  frosty  morning  young  Audubon 
chanced  to  meet  Mr.  Bakewell  in  the  woods.  The  Eng- 
lishman, too,  loved  nature,  birds,  and  flowers.  The  new 
country  was  full  of  promise  to  him. 

He  had  a  lovely  daughter  named  Lucy,  who  had  her 

father's  tastes.      She   heard   the   birds   sing  with   delight. 

35 


36  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Young  Audubon  fell  deeply  in  love  with  Lucy  the  first 
time  he  saw  her,  and  his  love  never  abated.  He  married 
her  in  the  spring  of  1808,  and  the  two  left  their  noble 
estates  among  the  primeval  trees  of  the  Schuylkill  for 
Louisville,  Ky. 

At  this  period  of  life  Audubon  became  fond  of  fine 
clothes,  and  he  afterward  ridicules  himself  for  his  vanity 
at  this  time. 

His  passion  for  nature  partly  abated.  He  drew  around 
him  a  social  circle  on  the  Schuylkill. 

Among  the  winter  sports  of  these  days  was  skating, 
which  became  a  fine  art. 

The  skating  parties  took  place  at  night  under  full  moons 
and  crystal  stars.  The  air  was  keen,  the  ice-fields  glittered, 
and  the  shores  were  lined  with  firs,  which  gleamed.  There 
were  air-holes  in  the  ice,  but  accidents  rarely  happened  on 
that  account. 

One  evening  in  the  weak  period  of  his  pleasures  and 
fineries  he  led  a  party  over  the  smooth  ice  toward  the 
roosting  grounds  of  the  wild  duck.  He  fastened  a  white 
handkerchief  on  a  stick,  and  held  it  high  in  air  as  a  signal. 
Then  his  feet  flew  in  graceful  curves,  and  his  voice  led  the 
merry  skaters  and  shouters. 

The  hilarity  waxed  warm.  He  increased  his  speed,  and 
the  skaters  who  followed  him  flew  onward  after  him  as 
for  life. 

Suddenly  an  air-hole  appeared  directly  before  him.    He 


A  STRANGE  ADVENTURE  ON  THE  ICE       37 

could  not  retard  his  pace.  Down  into  the  cold  stream  he 
went.  His  comrades  saw  him  disappear  with  a  feeling  of 
horror. 

Under  the  ice  was  an  open  space,  a  sort  of  air-chamber, 
and  a  swift  current.  He  was  numbed  by  the  chill,  but  he 
felt  himself  borne  along  under  the  ice  as  by  invisible  arms. 

"  My  senses,"  he  says,  "  must,  for  aught  I  know,  have 
left  me  for  a  while." 

He  was  thus  borne  along  for  some  thirty  or  forty 
yards,  when  the  sky  again  shone  above  him,  and  he  found 
himself  lifted  up,  as  by  arms  of  the  air.  He  had  come  to 
another  air-hole.  He  seized  the  ice  and  crawled  up.  He 
rose,  as  it  were,  from  an  icy  tomb. 

His  companions  saw  him  thus  rising,  and  shouted.  They 
tore  his  clothes  from  him,  and  each  gave  him  some  part  of 
his  own  clothing. 

Thus  he  flew  back  again,  as  it  were,  more  swiftly  than 
when  he  came,  and  a  curious  object  indeed  he  presented 
at  his  own  doors,  filling  the  people  with  astonishment. 

His  wedding  journey  down  the  Ohio  to  Louisville  was 
on  a  kind  of  raft,  or  flatboat,  called  an  ark.  The  woods 
were  full  of  spring  birds,  and  he  began  to  interest  his  bride 
in  his  original  plans  of  painting.  Eobins  flying  north  must 
have  haunted  the  early  woods  with  their  songs.  Eiver 
birds  were  everywhere.  His  bride  entered  into  his  dreams 
of  becoming  a  great  naturalist. 

The  Knitter  of  Nantes  was  not  here  to  encourage  him, 


38  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

but  a  prophecy  had  gone  forth  from  Mill  Grove  that  the 
young  bridegroom  would  become  a  naturalist.  Nothing 
helps  one  like  good  prophecies — words  of  appreciation 
build. 

lie  says  of  his  April  wedding  journey: 

"  We  floated  down  the  Ohio  in  a  flatboat.  We  had 
many  goods,  and  opened  a  large  store  in  Louisville,  but  birds 
were  birds  then  as  now,  and  my  thoughts  were  ever  turning 
toward  them  as  my  greatest  delight." 

In  1809  Victor  Audubon  was  born,  who  would  as  a 
boy  become  his  father's  companion  in  the  woods,  and  later 
in  life  complete  his  father's  work. 


CHAPTEE  VI 

A    PEDLER    WITH    A    FACE    LIKE    A    BIRD 

AUDUBON  was  on  the  verge  of  manhood. 

This  was  the  happy  period  of  his  life.  The  sowing 
in  the  springtime  and  the  joy  of  anticipation  are  inspir- 
ing. He  was  fulfilling  the  divine  law  within  him.  He 
knew  not  that  any  other  man  in  America  had  a  purpose 
like  this. 

But  there  was  one.  His  introduction  to  Audubon  was 
in  this  singular  manner: 

Audubon,  after  studying  the  birds  of  the  Pennsylvania 
woods,  went  from  the  regions  of  the  Schuylkill  to  Louis- 
ville, Ky.,  then  a  pioneer  town.  Here  one  day  a  strange 
face  appeared  to  him — a  man  with  a  face  like  a  bird. 

This  man  had  a  long,  hooked  nose,  keen  and  restless 
eyes,  high  cheek-bones,  and  a  singularly  beak-like  visage. 
One  might  think  that  his  face  was  a  birthmark. 

He  came  out  of  the  woods  as  from  an  eagle's  nest.  He 
said  to  Audubon: 

"  I  have  a  work  that  I  wish  to  show  you.  I  hear  that 
you  are  interested  in  birds." 

"  Do  you  take  an  interest  in  birds?  "  asked  Audubon. 

39 


40  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  I  give  my  life  to  the  study  of  birds.  I  picture  birds, 
and  I  have  a  collection  of  pictures  which  I  wish  to  sell.  I 
want  your  subscription  to  my  book  on  birds." 

Audubon  was  greatly  surprised.  He  may  not  at  that 
time  have  definitely  planned  his  own  great  work  on  birds 
to  be  sold  by  subscriptions.  But  here  was  a  man  who  had 
his  own  passion  for  revealing  to  the  world  the  birds  of  the 
American  forests. 

"  Who  are  you,  stranger?    Where  were  you  born?  " 

"  At  Paisley,  in  Scotland,  in  1776.  My  people  were 
simple  folk,  and  they  wished  me  to  become  a  minister.  I 
was  apprenticed  to  a  weaver.  I  used  to  write  poetry  and 
sell  my  poems  by  subscription,  and  I  knew  Robert  Burns, 
and  my  poems  were  often  taken  for  his.  Poetry  kept  me 
poor,  and  I  became  despondent;  so  I  came  to  the  New 
World,  and  worked  in  a  printer's  shop  in  Philadelphia. 

"  There,  as  I  wandered  along  the  Schuylkill,  I  found 
something  about  which  the  great  world  did  not  know. 
Birds.  They  are  poets  of  the  air,  poets  of  the  trees,  and 
my  heart  went  out  to  the  birds.  Then  I  became  a  pedler, 
and  wandered  through  the  forests  from  town  to  town, 
studying  the  ways  of  birds.  Birds  can  sing  the  poetry 
that  I  can  not  write. 

"  I  made  up  for  my  poor  education  by  teaching.  Then 
I  studied  botany.  I  visited  the  Mohawk  Valley.  I  found 
new  birds.  I  heard  new  songs.  I  began  to  paint  birds.  I 
have  printed  a  collection  of  bird  pictures,  and  am  trying 


A  PEDLER  WITH  A  FACE   LIKE   A  BIRD  41 

to  sell  it.     I  hope  you  will  help  me  in  the  work  by  sub- 
scribing to  one  of  my  books." 

Audubon  saw  his  own  spirit  and  purpose  in  this  strange 
forest  pedler  and  wandering  teacher.  To  use  Audubon's 
own  words: 

"How  well  I  remember  him  as  he  walked  up  to  me! 
His  long,  rather  hooked  nose, 
the  keenness  of  his  eyes,  and  his 
prominent  cheek  -  bones  stamped 
his  countenance  with  a  peculiar 
character." 

Audubon  was  then  thirty 
years  of  age. 

"  I  too,"  he  said  to  the  wan- 
dering lover  of  birds,  "  am  en- 
gaged in  the  same  studies  as  your- 
self. Let  me  examine  your  col- 
lection." He  was  surprised  to 

find  in  this  collection  some  birds  that  he  had  never  seen. 
The  man's  name  was  Alexander  Wilson. 

He  lent  to  Mr.  Wilson  some  of  his  own  plates,  and  the 
latter  went  on  his  way.  This  man  published  a  notable  work 
on  American  Ornithology  and  died  a  martyr  to  science. 
He  slept  in  the  woods  and  lived  on  fruits  and  berries,  and 
brought  upon  himself  a  mortal  sickness  by  following  a  rare 
bird  through  a  river.  He  never  married. 

He  may  have  suggested  to  Audubon  the  method  of 


42  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

painting  a  great  work  and  selling  it  by  personal  subscrip- 
tions. We  do  not  know  but  Audubon  followed  this 
method. 

It  is  often  the  case  that  two  people  who  are  entire 
strangers  to  each  other  are  found  to  be  pursuing  the  same 
studies  in  a  new  field.  Wilson  did  a  noble  work  as  a  nat- 
uralist, but  he  was  surpassed  by  the  "  American  wood- 
man "  whom  he  met  at  Louisville.  Each  had  the  genius  of 
the  woods,  and  heard  in  the  songs  of  birds  divine  music 
and  the  true  beating  of  nature's  heart. 


CHAPTER  YII 

A  HERBMAN  OF  SINGLE  SIGHT  WHO  WAS  LAUGHED  AT THE 

HERB  DOCTOR 

THE  Pioneers  of  Science  in  America,  published  in  1896, 
has  done  justice  to  a  most  remarkable  man  who  came  to 
meet  Audubon  in  a  queer  way  indeed,  while  Audubon  was 
living  in  Kentucky.  After  the  manner  that  Audubon 
trained  his  eye  to  discover  new  birds  and  new  habits  of 
birds,  this  man  educated  himself  to  find  new  plants.  To 
find  a  new  medicinal  herb  filled  him  with  such  delight  that 
he  would  leap  about  with  the  simplicity  of  a  monkey  or 
a  boy. 

As  Audubon  was  wandering  one  day  along  a  river,  peer- 
ing into  the  boughs  for  birds,  he  suddenly  beheld  this  curi- 
ous-looking man  landing  from  a  boat  with  a  great  bundle 
of  herbs  on  his  back.  He  stopped  to  wonder  at  the  herb- 
man,  when  the  latter  ran  toward  him,  saying: 

"  Say,  good  man,  can  you  direct  me  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Audubon?  He  studies  birds;  I  study  plants;  we  both 
love  nature." 

"  I  am  Mr.  Audubon — probably  the  man  whom  you 

seek.    I  will  lead  you  to  my  house." 

43 


44  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

The  herbman  clapped  his  hands  together  with  a  child- 
ish delight,  and  said: 

"  I  have  a  letter  of  introduction  to  you." 
The  herbman  handed  the  letter  to  Audubon,  and  the 
latter  read  it  to  his  great  astonishment.     It  was  as  follows: 

"  MY  DEAR  AUDUBON  :  I  send  you  an  odd  fish,  which 
may  prove  to  be  undescribed.  If  so,  I  hope  that  you  will 
let  me  have  an  account  in  your  next  letter. 

"  Believe  me,  always  your  friend, 

"  B." 

"  But,"  asked  Audubon,  "  where  is  the  odd  fish  that  our 
friend  has  sent  me?  " 

"  I  am  that  odd  fish,  Mr.  Audubon." 

"You!  Let  me  send  to  your  boat  for  your  bag- 
gage!" 

"  Bless  you,  I  have  no  baggage  only  what  I  carry  on  my 
back.  I  am  a  botanist.  I  am  always  looking  for  some- 
thing new." 

At  home  with  Audubon,  the  "  odd  fish  "  began  to  ex- 
amine the  naturalist's  portfolios  for  a  new  herb. 

His  eye  fell  upon  one  that  he  thought  was  new.  The 
sight  filled  him  with  delight. 

"That  herb  is  not  new,"  said  Audubon.  "It  grows 
here." 

"^To,  no!" 

"  I  will  show  you  one  to-morrow." 


A  HERBMAN  OF  SINGLE  SIGHT  WHO  WAS  LAUGHED  AT    45 

"  Not  to-morrow,"  said  the  enthusiast.  "  Let  us  go  out 
and  find  it  now." 

Audubon  led  him  to  the  riverside.  When  the  "  odd 
fish  "  saw  the  plant  he  acted  like  a  madman. 

"  Plucking  the  plants  mercilessly  one  after  another," 
says  Audubon,  "  he  danced  and  hugged  them  in  his  arms 
and  seemed  in  a  delirium  of  delight." 

There  were  queer  times  in  Audubon's  home  while  this 
trained  plant-finder  remained  there. 

As  the  "  odd  fish "  was  discoursing  on  the  strength 
of  the  beetle  one  evening,  he  said : 

"  A  little  flying  beetle  could  draw  that  candlestick  and 
candle  along  the  table." 

"  I  would  like  to  see  it  done,"  said  Audubon. 

His  visitor  attached  a  tiny  beetle  to  the  ring  of  the 
candlestick.  The  little  insect  drew  it  along  the  table  until 
the  candlestick  fell  over  the  edge  of  the  table  to  the  floor, 
when  the  scarabseus  flew  away. 

One  summer  night  some  bats  entered  the  botanist's 
room,  and  he  thought  that  he  saw  among  them  some  new 
species.  Not  a  moment  must  be  lost;  he  must  secure  a 
specimen  at  once.  The  world  of  science  was  waiting  for 
it.  But  how  was  he  to  capture  a  bat? 

Audubon  describes  the  amazing  conduct  of  the  man  in 
this  new  frenzy  of  delight: 

"  After  a  day's  pursuit  of  natural-history  studies,  the 
stranger  was  accommodated  with  a  bed  in  an  attic  room. 


46  IN  THE  DAYS  OP  AUDUBON 

We  had  all  retired  to  rest;  every  person  I  imagined  was 
in  deep  slumber  save  myself,  when  of  a  sudden  I  heard  a 
great  uproar  in  the  naturalist's  room.  I  got  up,  reached 
the  place  in  a  few  moments,  and  opened  the  door,  when, 
to  my  astonishment,  I  saw  my  guest  running  naked,  hold- 
ing the  handle  of  my  favorite  violin,  the  body  of  which 
he  had  battered  to  pieces  against  the  walls  in  attempting 
to  kill  the  bats  which  had  entered  by  the  open  window, 
probably  attracted  by  the  insects  flying  around  his  candle. 
I  stood  amazed,  and  he  continued  jumping  and  running 
round  and  round  until  he  was  fairly  exhausted,  when  he 
begged  me  to  procure  one  of  the  animals  for  him,  as  he 
felt  convinced  they  belonged  to  a  '  new  species.'  Although 
I  was  convinced  of  the  contrary,  I  took  up  the  bow  of  my 
demolished  Cremona,  and  administering  a  smart  tap  to  each 
of  the  bats  as  it  came  up,  soon  got  specimens  enough.  The 
war  ended,  I  again  bade  him  good  night,  but  could  not  help 
observing  the  state  of  the  room.  It  was  strewed  with 
plants,  which  had  been  previously  arranged  with  care." 

Audubon  also  describes  his  visit  with  the  herbman  to 
a  cane-brake: 

'  The  cane-brake  is  composed  of  a  dense  growth  of 
canes,  measuring  twenty  or  thirty  feet  in  height,  and 
packed  so  closely  that  a  man's  body  requires  to  be  forced 
between  the  shafts  of  the  canes.  An  undergrowth  of 
plants  and  trailing  climbers  further  prevents  progression, 
which  has  to  be  accelerated  by  pushing  the  back  between 


A  HEEBMAN  OF  SINGLE  SIGHT  WHO  WAS  LAUGHED  AT  47 

the  canes.  Game  of  all  sorts  frequent  the  cane-brakes,  in 
which  traveling  is  rendered  disagreeably  exciting  by  the 
presence  of  bears,  panthers,  snakes,  and  serpents  \_sic~] .  The 
cane-brakes  are  sometimes  set  fire  to,  and  the  water  col- 
lected in  the  separate  joints  explodes  like  a  shell.  The  con- 
stant fusillade  occasioned  by  such  explosions  in  the  midst  of 
a  conflagration  has  occasioned  the  flight  of  parties  not  con- 
versant with  the  cause,  and  who  believed  that  the  Indians 
were  advancing  with  volleys  of  musketry.  I  had  deter- 
mined that  my  companion  should  view  a  cane-brake  in  all 
its  perfection,  and  leading  him  several  miles  in  a  direct 
course  came  upon  as  fine  a  sample  as  existed  in  that  part 
of  the  country.  We  entered,  and  for  some  time  proceeded 
without  much  difficulty,  as  I  led  the  way  and  cut  down  the 
canes  which  were  most  likely  to  incommode  him.  The  diffi- 
culties gradually  increased,  so  that  we  were  presently 
obliged  to  turn  our  backs  and  push  our  way  through. 
"  After  a  while  we  came  upon  the  top  of  a  fallen 
tree,  which  so  obstructed  our  passage  that  we  were  on  the 
eve  of  going  round,  instead  of  thrusting  ourselves  through 
among  the  branches,  when  from  its  bed  in  the  center  of 
the  tangled  mass  forth  rushed  a  bear  with  such  force  that 
my  friend  became  terror-struck,  and  in  his  haste  to  escape 
made  a  desperate  attempt  to  run,  but  fell  among  the  canes 
in  such  a  way  that  he  was  completely  jammed.  I  could 
not  refrain  from  laughing  at  the  ridiculous  exhibition  he 
made,  but  my  gaiety  was  not  very  pleasing  to  the  dis- 


48  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDTJBON 

comfited  naturalist.  A  thunder-storm  with  a  deluge  of 
rain  completed  our  experience  of  the  cane-brake,  and  my 
friend  begged  to  be  taken  out.  This  could  only  be  accom- 
plished by  crawling  in  a  serpentine  manner  out  of  the 
jungle,  from  which  the  naturalist  was  delighted  to  escape, 
perfectly  overcome  with  fatigue  and  fear.  The  eccentric 
was  more  than  gratified  with  the  exploit,  and  soon  after 
left  my  abode  without  explanation  or  farewell.  A  letter 
of  thanks,  however,  showed  that  he  had  enjoyed  the  hos- 
pitality, and  was  not  wanting  in  gratitude." 

This  singular  man  who  had  trained  his  eye  to  see  what 
was  new  in  the  botanical  world  was  Constantine  Samuel 
Rafinesque.  He  was  born  in  Constantinople  in  1783. 
Though  born  a  Greek,  he  was  brought  up  in  Marseilles. 
He  read  books  of  travel  and  began  to  study  plants,  and 
at  the  age  of  eleven  he  made  a  herbarium.  He  resolved 
to  become  a  merchant,  as  that  would  enable  him  to  travel 
and  to  see  plants  by  the  way.  He  came  to  America 
at  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  saw  what  a 
pioneer  botanist  could  do  for  the  new  and  wonderful 
country.  He  developed  a  passion  to  make  American  medi- 
cal plants  known  to  the  world.  In  his  wanderings  among 
the  Indians  he  became  persuaded  that  the  American  Indians 
were  descendants  of  the  lost  Israelitish  tribes,  who  crossed 
Siberia  to  the  New  World,  possibly  by  Bering  Strait.  He 
became  the  author  of  "  Medical  Flora  of  the  United 
States."  He  died  in  poverty  at  Philadelphia  in  1840,  but 


THE  HERB  DOCTOR  49 

his  works  on  conchology  were  republished  in  1864,  and 
what  was  valuable  in  his  researches  received  the  attention 
of  Prof.  Asa  Gray.  He  lived  for  a  time  at  Kobert  Owen's 
communistic  settlement  at  'New  Harmony,  Ind. 

He  was  a  fanciful  man,  of  a  child  nature,  but  that  eye 
turned  for  one  thing  rendered  the  world  great  service  as 
a  pioneer  botanist  in  America.  Laughed  at  though  he  was, 
Rafinesque  was  a  hero  of  science.  Yet  no  man  seems  to 
know  the  place  of  his  grave. 

THE  HERB  DOCTOR 

Both  Audubon  and  Wilson  liked  to  meet  native  natu- 
ralists. Let  us  tell  you  a  story  of  Wilson. 

Some  miles  from  a  forest  inn  there  dwelt  a  hermit. 
He  had  turned  away  from  the  world  to  find  relief  from  the 
disappointments  of  a  too  sensitive  nature  in  the  voices  of 
the  solitudes.  He  seems  to  have  believed  what  was  good 
in  all  the  plans  of  nature,  and  he  had  left  mankind  in 
order  to  study  the  beneficence  of  God  among  the  animals, 
birds,  and  insects. 

They  called  him  the  Solitary. 

He  lived  in  a  hut  made  by  his  own  hands.  It  was  near 
the  mouth  of  a  cave  to  which  he  could  retire,  and  in  it 
there  were  to  be  heard  echoes  loud  and  long. 

He  was  a  philosopher.     He  came  out  of  the  woods  a 
few  times  a  year  to  the  tavern  store  to  purchase  a  few  nee- ' 
essary  things.     Wilson,  the  gentle  ornithologist,  heard  of 


50  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDTJBON 

him,  and  had  an  interview  with  him,  for  he  thought  a 
man  who  had  so  long  lived  in  the  woods  must  have  a 
very  intelligent  knowledge  of  the  habits  of  the  winged 
creatures,  and  that  he  could  obtain  very  useful  informa- 
tion from  him.  On  one  side  of  the  simple  cabin  rose 
a  large  mountain,  around  which  the  storms  gathered. 
The  man  had  had  no  education  in  books,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  study  the  book  of  nature  as  a  revelation  of 
God. 

"  He  appears  to  be  a  stranger,"  said  Wilson,  "  as  one 
of  the  early  inhabitants  of  the  earth." 

"  Within  a  stone's  throw  of  his  hut,"  he  continues,  "  a 
deep  enormous  chasm  extends  up  the  mountain  for  more 
than  four  miles,  through  which  a  large  body  of  water  surges 
in  loud  and  successive  falls." 

The  hermit  was  a  botanist,  and  loved  to  gather  herbs 
and  to  study  their  uses  and  beneficial  effects. 

He  studied  the  chemistry  of  the  soil,  and  the  effects  of 
different  soils  on  grains. 

He  learned  how  to  doctor  sick  animals.  People  from 
a  distance  came  to  him  to  treat  disabled  horses  and  oxen. 
The  hermit  was  ready  to  go  on  such  errands;  his  heart  was 
in  such  work. 

As  a  result  of  these  studies  in  the  woods  he  came  to 
see  what  useful  work  the  birds  did  in  the  interest  of  the 
gardener.  He  also  saw  the  value  of  insects  as  purifiers  of 
the  air. 


THE  HERB  DOCTOR  51 

We  have  seldom  met  in  books  a  more  beautiful  char- 
acter than  this  solitary  man  as  described  by  Wilson. 

We  must  give  you  a  passage  by  Wilson  on  this  bene- 
factor, as  the  former  found  him.  It  will  bear  reading 
twice : 

"  About  six  months  ago  I  went  to  pay  him  a  visit,  along 
with  an  intimate  friend,  no  less  remarkable  for  a  natural 
curiosity.  On  arriving  at  his  little  hut  we  found,  to  our  no 
small  disappointment,  that  he  was  from  home.  As  my 
friend,  however,  had  never  been  in  that  part  of  the  country 
before,  I  conducted  him  to  the  glen,  to  take  a  view  of  some 
of  the  beautifully  romantic  scenes  and  wild  prospects  that 
this  place  affords.  We  had  not  proceeded  far  along  the 
bottom  of  the  vale  when,  hearing  a  rustling  among  the 
branches  above  our  heads,  I  discovered  our  hoary  botanist, 
with  his  basket,  passing  along  the  brow  of  a  rock  that  hung 
almost  over  the  center  of  the  stream.  Having  pointed  him 
out  to  my  companion,  we  were  at  a  loss  for  some  time 
to  bring  about  a  conversation  with  him.  Having,  how- 
ever, a  flute  in  my  pocket,  of  which  music  he  is  exceed- 
ingly fond,  I  began  a  few  airs,  which,  by  the  sweetness 
of  the  echoes,  was  heightened  into  the  most  enchanting 
melody. 

"  This  had  its  desired  effect;  and  our  little  man  stood 
beside  us,  with  his  basket  in  his  hand.  On  stopping  at 
his  approach,  he  desired  us  to  proceed,  complimented  us 
on  the  sweetness  of  our  music,  expressed  the  surprise  he 


52  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

was  in  on  hearing  it,  and  leaning  his  basket  on  an  old 
trunk,  listened  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  rapture.  He 
then,  at  our  request,  presented  us  with  a  sight  of  the  herbs 
he  had  been  collecting,  and  entertained  us  with  a  narrative 
of  the  discoveries  he  had  made  in  his  frequent  researches 
through  the  vale,  '  which,'  said  he,  '  contains  treasures  that 
few  know  the  value  of.' 

"  Seeing  us  pleased  with  this  discourse,  he  launched  forth 
into  a  more  particular  account  of  the  vegetables,  reptiles, 
wild  beasts,  and  insects  that  frequented  the  place,  and  with 
much  judgment  explained  their  various  properties.  '  Were 
it  not,'  says  he,  '  for  the  innumerable  millions  of  insects, 
I  believe  dead  carcasses  and  other  putrid  substances  might 
have  dreadful  effects;  but  no  sooner  does  a  carcass  begin  to 
grow  putrid  than  these  insects,  led  by  the  smell,  flock  to  the 
place,  and  there  deposit  their  eggs,  which  in  a  few  days  pro- 
duce such  a  number  of  maggots  that  the  carcass  is  soon 
consumed.  While  they  are  thus  employed  below,  the 
parent  flies  are  no  less  busy  in  devouring  the  noxious 
vapors  that  incessantly  ascend;  thus  the  air  by  these  insects 
is  kept  sweet  and  pure,  till  the  storms  of  winter  render  their 
existence  unnecessary,  and  at  once  destroy  them.  And 
Heaven,  that  has  formed  nothing  in  vain,  exhibits  these 
things  for  our  contemplation,  that  we  may  adore  that  all- 
bounteous  Creator  who  makes  even  the  most  minute  and 
seemingly  destructive  creatures  subservient  to  the  good 
of  man.' 


THE  HERB  DOCTOR  53 

"  In  such  a  manner  did  this  poor  and  illiterate  peasant 
moralize  on  the  common  occurrences  of  nature;  these  glori- 
ous and  invaluable  truths  did  he  deduce  from  vile  reptiles, 
the  unheeded  insect,  the  simple  herb  that  lies  neglected 
or  is  trodden  under  foot  as  useless  and  offensive;  and  what 
friend  to  mankind  does  not,  on  contemplating  this  hoary 
rustic's  story,  fondly  wish,  with  its  writer,  that  learning 
had  lent  its  aid  to  polish  a  genius  that  might  have  one  day 
surprised  the  world  with  the  glorious  blaze  of  a  Locke  or  a 
]STewton? " 

At  the  close  of  an  autumn  day  this  beneficent  old 
man  came  to  the  Forest  Inn  to  exchange  some  herbs 
for  things  he  would  need  in  the  approaching  cold 
weather. 

Having  met  Wilson,  and  read  in  him  the  true  charac- 
ter of  a  naturalist,  he  cherished  the  memory  of  the  poet 
naturalist  in  his  solitude,  and  when  he  heard  that  another 
naturalist,  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Audubon,  was 
searching  the  woods  from  river  to  river  for  the  same  pur- 
pose that  he  himself  had  in  going  into  the  woods  to  live, 
he  hoped  he  would  meet  him  some  day;  he  thought  that 
they  must  be  kindred  souls. 

The  meeting,  as  we  well  suppose,  came  on  this  visit  to 
the  inn.  While  he  was  having  his  herbs  and  barks  weighed 
a  vigorous  young  man  came  down  into  the  store  from  the 
upper  rooms. 

"  This  is  Audubon,  the  naturalist,"  said  Calvert,  the 


54  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

innkeeper,  to  him,  adding,  "  The  herb-gatherer  is  something 
of  a  naturalist  himself." 

"  I  am  something  of  a  student  of  nature/'  said  the  herb- 
gatherer.  "  They  call  me  old  because  I  am  a  man  of  the 
woods.  I  am  not  very  old.  I  am  glad  to  find  you  study- 
ing the  woods.  I  hope  that  you  will  come  to  see,  like  me, 
that  all  things  were  created  for  some  good  purpose." 

The  two  sat  down  under  the  trees  in  the  early  afternoon 
and  talked  until  sundown. 

"  I  have  given  up  everything  for  science,"  said  Audu- 
bon.  "  People  say  that  I  lack  common  sense ;  there  are 
few  who  believe  in  me." 

Audubon  went  to  his  room,  and  Calvert  came  out  to 
talk  with  the  hermit. 

"  He  has  given  up  everything,"  said  the  hermit,  re- 
ferring to  Audubon.  "  He  can  see  clear.  Let  me  prophesy 
— he  will  one  day  become  an  interpreter  of  the  woods,  and 
his  influence  will  grow  when  all  the  people  who  laugh  at 
him  are  forgotten. 

"  I  shall  come  to  the  store  more  often  to  hear  the  papers 
read,  and  I  will  hear  from  him  again  some  day.  That  man 
is  living  to  do  good  in  the  animal  world.  The  forests  call 
him  to  explain  them.  He  wishes  to  leave  all  dumb  life 
better  for  his  existence.  Mark  my  words,  you  will  hear 
of  that  man  again." 

"  No,  my  good  woodman,  he  will  never  attain  to  any 
success.  What  is  there  in  him  to  give  him  power? " 


THE  HERB  DOCTOR  55 

"  Ah,"  said  the  hermit,  "  success  lies  in  the  true  pur- 
pose of  life.  A  man  may  gain  wealth  and  be  a  failure;  he 
may  have  popular  reputation  and  lack  worth;  and  he  may 
be  moral  with  these,  and  also  benevolent  for  selfish  ends, 
and  yet  not  be  a  success.  Success  lies  in  good  influence, 
and  if  a  man  have  good  influence  he  will  be  moral. 

"  The  one  requirement  of  true  success  is  that  a  man 
should  be  an  influence  for  good  in  the  world,  and  make  all 
things  better  and  happier.  Audubon  has  this  success  in  his 
purpose  in  life,  and  he  will  have  it  in  the  results  of  his  life. 
A  man's  harvests  show  the  life  that  he  has  lived." 

"  But  it  will  be  a  wonder  indeed  if  this  man  who  paints 
wrens  and  lets  them  go  again  ever  has  any  influence  be- 
yond his  own  nose." 

"  He  paints  wrens  and  lets  them  go  again?  Therein  lies 
a  secret  that  you  do  not  yet  see." 


CHAPTEK  VIII 

THE   GENIUS   THAT   SEES THE   STOKY   OF   THE    FOREST   INN   AND 

THE    WREN 

THE  father  of  Audubon,  the  French  admiral,  left  a 
goodly  estate  in  France,  but  the  French  members  of  the 
family  stood  in  need  of  it,  and  Audubon  surrendered  his 
claim  upon  it  under  a  sense  of  duty,  as  the  other  heirs 
needed  the  property  more  than  he. 

"  I  will  go  into  the  world  conscience  free,"  he  rea- 
soned. 

The  old  schoolmistress,  the  Knitter  of  Nantes,  rejoiced 
at  the  decision.  She  saw  the  secret  webs  of  life. 

"  A  clear  conscience  makes  clear  sight,"  said  she.  "  La^ 
forest  [Audubon's  home  name]  must  become  a  great  natu- 
ralist, and  nature  does  not  reveal  her  deepest  meanings  to 
any  mind  that  is  clouded  with  any  specks  of  character. 
Selfishness  is  a  speck  on  the  eyes,  as  anything  is  that  does 
not  leave  the  conscience  free  to  see.  Laforest  is  pursuing 
the  right  course  if  he  wishes  to  be  a  student  of  nature.  It 
it  the  giving  up  of  oneself  that  makes  the  wings  of  con- 
science free." 

Audubon  felt  the  force  and  truth  of  this  principle  of 
56 


THE  GENIUS  THAT  SEES  57 

art.  His  friends,  too,  saw  in  his  giving  up  the  legacy  the 
gravitation  of  an  honest  purpose. 

The  principle  of  keeping  his  conscience  free  for  its  own 
sake  and  for  the  sake  of  the  power  it  gave  him  as  an  artist 
continued  through  life. 

In  Henderson,  Ky.,  he  entered  into  a  business  that 
proved  disastrous.  He  failed.  He  could  have  kept  some 
part  of  his  property  by  evasions. 

To  do  so  would  be  to  lower  his  self-respect  and  be 
unjust  to  the  morale  of  his  art.  He  might  be  empty- 
handed,  but  he  must  have  a  clear  vision.  He  must  see 
nature  without  any  obscurity.  He  must  do  just  right,  or 
fail  to  rise  to  the  highest  interpretation  of  the  natural 
world. 

If  my  reader  is  an  artist  or  desiring  to  be  one,  he  should 
note  this  principle,  as  illustrated  by  Audubon. 

The  following  paragraphs  from  his  own  journal  give  a 
view  of  that  inner  obedience  to  spiritual  law  which  alone 
can  make  a  man  great: 

"  From  this  date  my  pecuniary  difficulties  daily  in- 
creased. I  had  heavy  bills  to  pay  which  I  could  not  meet 
or  take  up.  The  moment  that  this  became  known  to  the 
world  around  me,  that  moment  I  was  assailed  by  thousands 
of  invectives;  the  once  wealthy  man  was  now  nothing.  I 
parted  with  every  particle  of  property  I  had  to  my  credit- 
ors, keeping  only  the  clothes  that  I  wore,  my  original  draw- 
ings, and  my  gun. 


58  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  Finally,  I  paid  every  bill,  and  at  last  left  Henderson, 
probably  forever,  without  a  dollar  in  my  pockets. 

"  My  plantation  in  Pennsylvania  had  been  sold,  and 
nothing  was  left  me  but  my  humble  talents. 

"  Were  these  talents  to  remain  dormant  under  such 
exigencies?  "Was  I  to  see  my  beloved  Lucy  and  children 
suffer  for  want  of  bread  in  the  abundant  State  of  Ken- 
tucky? Was  I  to  repine  because  I  acted  like  an  honest 
man? 

"  No.  I  had  talents,  and  to  them  I  instantly  re- 
sorted." 

His  gifts  had  been  made  more  valuable  by  this  integrity 
of  character.  They  had  grown.  He  went  to  nature  with 
a  clear  vision,  and  his  noble  wife,  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  luxury,  now  with  an  infant  in  her  arms,  sustained 
him  in  what  he  had  done. 

He  turned  his  gifts  to  portrait  painting  for  the  sake  of 
his  family,  but  he  suddenly  discovered  a  new  power  in 
his  work. 

He  thus  speaks  of  this  enlargement  of  his  talents  in  his 
journals: 

"  My  drawings  of  birds  were  not  neglected  meantime. 
I  would  even  give  up  drawing  a  portrait,  the  profits  of 
which  would  have  supplied  the  wants  of  my  family  for  a 
week  or  more,  to  represent  a  little  citizen  of  the  feathered 
tribe. 

,  my  dear  sons,  I  thought  that  I  now  drew  birds 


"The  Bird  of  Washington." 


THE  GENIUS  THAT  SEES  59 

far  "better  than  I  had  ever  done  before  misfortune  intensi- 
fied, or  at  least  developed,  my  abilities." 

Genius  grows  through  moral  power,  and  is  diminished 
by  anything  that  weakens  force  of  character. 

Audubon  was  laughed  at. 

"  No  one  but  my  wife  and  sons  believed  in  me/'  he 
says  in  his  journals. 

When  he  came  to  a  cabin  or  an  inn  and  told  his  story 
of  painting  winks  went  around. 

"  Hunting  for  nothing,"  said  the  hunters.  "  Catching 
birds  that  one  can  not  eat,"  said  the  farmers.  Men  made 
merry  over  him  when  he  came  to  the  stores  to  buy  powder 
and  supplies  for  his  long  journeys. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  long  summer  day  and  the  set- 
ting sun  was  burning  through  the  trees. 

A  party  of  farmers  had  gathered  on  the  steps  of  the 
grocery  store  of  the  Forest  Inn,  under  the  oaks,  when  Cal- 
vert  looked  up  the  high  hill  near  the  store  and  said  to  the 
others : 

"  There  comes  Audubon  down  the  hill;  been  out 
to  hunt  a  chickadee  or  a  wren.  Of  all  the  lazy,  shiftless, 
no-account  men  that  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of,  he  is  the 
beater!  " 

The  men  looked  up  the  hill. 

"  Look  at  him  now!  "  continued  Calvert.  "  He  is  bring- 
ing home  one  little  bird,  and  that  a  live  one.  He  has  failed 
in  business  in  Kentucky,  and  they  say  that  he  gave  up  his 


60  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

property  in  France  to  his  relatives,  and  that  his  wife,  who 
was  born  in  a  house  as  good  as  a  palace,  has  to  teach  for 
a  living.  That  man  must  be  crazy." 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  in  which  he  never  fails,"  said 
one  of  the  men;  "  it  is  in  painting  birds.  Did  you  ever  see 
one  of  his  painted  birds?  " 

"  No;  but  here  he  comes,  with  a  little  bird  in  his  hand. 
Just  look  at  him!  See  how  pleased  he  looks!  If  he  had 
brought  home  a  diamond  he  would  not  be  more  happy. 
How  queerly  constituted  some  folks  are !  " 

Audubon  came  to  the  resting-place  on  the  steps  of  the 
store  under  the  oaks.  He  hardly  noticed  the  men. 

"What  have  you  got  now,  Audubon?"  asked  Cal- 
vert.  "  I  see — one  wee  little  mountain  wren.  I  de- 
clare, if  I  hadn't  a  scent  for  some  bigger  game  than 
that  I  would  go  and  put  my  head  in  soak  and  curl  up 
and  die.  What  good  does  it  do  to  paint  birds?  Suppose 
you  could  paint  all  the  birds  in  America,  what  good  would 
it  do?" 

"  I  would  have  painted  the  birds  of  America." 

"  But  it  would  bring  you  no  money." 

"  But  I  would  have  painted  the  birds." 

"  And  your  family  would  be  kept  poor." 

"  But  I  would  have  lived  my  true  life." 

"  Well,  yes;  but  what  a  life  to  live!  Go  out  as  you  do 
into  the  forests,  and  lie  down  and  doze  under  a  tree,  then 
see  a  little  no-account  bird  come  along,  and  study  him !  See 


THE  GENIUS  THAT  SEES  61 

him  hop  this  way  and  that  way,  and  weave  his  nest  and 
line  it,  and  sing  this  note  and  that  note — and  all  for  what? 
To  be  remembered  only  as  a  vagabond." 

"  You  may  hear  from  me  and  my  work  again  some 
day." 

"  Your  work!  What  work  did  you  ever  do?  You  give 
away  your  property  and  fail,  and  then  leave  your  wife  and 
lie  about  under  trees  and  catch  birds  and  paint  'em.  I 
wouldn't  give  one  penny  for  all  the  painted  birds  in 
America!  " 

Audubon  did  not  seem  to  hear  these  last  remarks;  if 
he  did,  he  did  not  heed  them.  His  eye  was  bent  on  the 
little  fluttering  bird,  whom  he  addressed: 

"  I  will  make  a  sketch  of  you  right  off  now,  and  then 
I  will  let  you  go  to  your  mate  in  the  mountains." 

He  started  to  go  up-stairs. 

"  Mr.  Audubon,"  said  the  store-tavern  keeper,  "  your 
supper  has  been  waiting  for  you  an  hour." 

"  I  can  not  stop  for  supper  now." 

"But  the  table  can  not  wait;  the  maids  have  other 
work  to  do." 

"  Well,  never  mind.  What  does  it  matter  whether  I 
have  my  supper  to-night  or  no?  Tell  them  to  clear  away 
the  dishes.  See  what  I  have  found — a  real  mountain  wren ! 
I  have  been  looking  for  a  specimen  like  this  for  years.  The 
world  shall  see  it  some  day." 

Audubon  passed  up  the  stairs  to  his  room. 


62  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"The  world!"  said  Calvert.  "He  said  'the  world.' 
"What  can  that  man  be  thinking  about  ?  " 

The  men  echoed,  "  The  world!  " 

"  He  thinks,"  said  Calvert,  "  that  the  world  will  one 
day  see  that  poor  little  wren — the  King  of  England,  it  may 
be,  '  The  world  '  !  " 

"  And  Emperor  of  all  the  Russias,"  added  another. 
"  What  an  imagination  that  man  must  have !  " 

"  The  Emperor  Rushia?  "  echoed  the  men.  All  laughed 
gaily,  then  each  one  went  his  way. 

We  shall  return  to  the  Forest  Inn  again. 

Victor?  He  pursued  his  way  alone;  he  sought  few 
pleasures,  he  made  few  friends.  He  saw  his  father's  great 
purpose  in  life,  and  he  gave  his  own  life  to  that — his  heart, 
his  thought,  and  all  the  best  that  was  in  him.  He  lived  in 
his  purpose  and  was  happy. 

He  heard  his  father  ridiculed,  sneered  at.  What  of 
that?  All  people  of  high  and  original  ideas  have  been 
laughed  at — all  scientists,  like  Franklin,  all  people  of 
original  views  and  purposes  in  the  long  past. 

Such  are  called  visionary.  "  Where  there  is  no  vision 
the  people  perish." 


CHAPTER  IX 

VICTOR,    THE    SON    OF    ATJDUBON FATHER    AND     SON    IN    THE 

FOREST FOREST   TALES— PARTRIDGE   LAND AN   OLD   KEN- 
TUCKY   FOURTH    OF    JULY 

AUDUBON  was  a  loving  father.  He  had  two  sons,  who 
became  companions  of  his  long  journeys,  John  and  Victor, 
and  one  day  he  said  to  Victor,  a  boy  just  entering  his  teens: 

"  I  am  about  to  make  a  long  journey  of  two  or  three 
hundred  miles  along  the  Ohio  and  Green  Rivers.  The  very 
sight  of  the  Ohio  River  fills  me  with  joy." 

"  But  you  will  not  go  alone?  "  asked  his  son. 

"  I  have  been  alone  on  many  a  journey  as  long  and 
hard." 

"  But  I  was  a  child  then.  Now  I  am  a  boy.  I  want 
to  go  with  you.  I  can  walk." 

"  We  will  have  to  share  the  living  of  the  woods,"  said 
Audubon;  "  pork  and  grated  corn  and  beds  of  leaves." 

"  That  does  not  matter  if  I  can  be  with  you." 

They  set  out,  if  not  hand  in  hand  yet  heart  in  heart, 
Audubon  stopping  to  listen  to  the  notes  of  every  new  song- 
bird that  appeared  among  the  tangled  boughs  and  cane- 
brakes. 


64:  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

All  houses  and  cabins,  as  well  as  taverns,  were  opened 
to  travelers  in  those  rude  times. 

He  describes  this  journey  in  a  most  picturesque  way. 
At  one  point  he  says:  "  Thousands  of  robins  were  flying 
southward  in  the  calm  clear  air;  the  Ohio  was  spread  before 
us  as  smooth  as  a  mirror,  and  into  its  waters  we  leaped  with 
pleasure." 

So  they  journeyed  on,  father  and  son,  each  sharing 
each  other's  delight  in  nature. 

Queer  people  they  met,  but  always  people  with  open 
hearts  and  doors. 

Among  the  cabins  that  they  visited,  stopping  there  for 
food  and  lodging,  was  one  which  Audubon  calls  the  lazy 
man's.  He  says: 

"  On  arriving  at  the  cabin  of  the  lazy  man,  blessed  with 
an  industrious  wife  and  six  healthy  children,  all  of  them 
laboring  for  his  support,  we  were  welcomed  by  a  woman 
whose  manners  and  speech  indicated  that  she  belonged  to 
the  better  class  of  people. 

"  Better  breakfast  we  never  ate.  The  bread  was  made 
of  new  corn  ground  on  a  tin  grater  [think  of  the  time  when 
families  grated  their  own  meal!],  the  chickens  were  cooked 
by  the  daughters;  coffee  was  added,  and  my  son  had  fresh 
milk. 

"  The  kind  woman,  who  held  her  babe  against  her 
bosom,  seemed  delighted  to  see  how  heartily  we  ate." 

It  probably  did  her  good  to  so  enter  into  a  traveler's 


VICTOR,  THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  65 

enjoyment.  Audubon  gave  a  dollar  to  a  chubby  little 
urchin,  which  must  have  filled  the  child's  eyes  with  wonder. 

The  two  went  away,  the  children  of  the  family  after 
breakfast  went  to  their  work,  and  the  lazy  man  went  to 
the  door  to  smoke  his  corn-cob  pipe. 

There  were  many  families  of  this  description  on  the 
Ohio  at  the  time — families  in  which  the  wife  and  children 
made  up  for  the  indolence  of  the  father,  and  sometimes 
vice  versa.  But  the  children  of  these  mismatched  families 
often  turned  out  well;  the  fact  that  their  pride  was  hurt 
seemed  to  give  them  energy. 

Victor  at  last  became  exhausted  with  his  journey.  Says 
Audubon : 

"  My  son  became  faint.  Dear  boy,  never  can  I  forget 
him  as  he  lay  down  on  a  log,  large  tears  rolling  down  his 
cheeks.  I  bathed  his  temples." 

A  fine  turkey  cock  ran  by. 

"  Look  there,  Victor!  "  said  Audubon. 

The  boy  saw  the  bird  and  gave  a  leap.  He  called  into 
himself  new  energy  and  ran  after  the  bird.  When  he  came 
back  he  was  so  invigorated  that  he  was  able  to  take  up  his 
journey. 

Day  by  day  the  sun  rose  in  splendor,  and  "  the  Ohio 
reflected  its  beams." 

So  they  journeyed  on  amid  brakes  and  barrens,  meeting 
strange  people  in  solitary  cabins. 

Audubon,  on  a  like  journey  with  his  son,  gives  the  fol- 


66  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

lowing  picture  of  the  hospitality  at  an  old  pioneer's  cabin, 
ending  with  an  anecdote  comical  indeed: 

"  Off  we  went  at  a  round  trot,  dancing  in  the  cart  like 
peas  in  a  sieve.  The  road,  which  was  just  wide  enough  to 
allow  us  to  pass,  was  full  of  deep  ruts  and  covered  here 
and  there  with  trunks  and  stumps,  over  all  which  we  were 
hurried.  Our  conductor,  Mr.  Flint,  the  landlord  of  the 
tavern,  boasting  of  his  perfect  knowledge  of  the  country, 
undertook  to  drive  us  by  a  short  cut,  and  we  willingly  con- 
fided ourselves  to  his  management.  So  we  jogged  along, 
now  and  then  deviating  to  double  the  fallen  timber.  Day 
commenced  with  promise  of  fine  weather,  but  several  nights 
of  white  frost  having  occurred,  a  change  was  expected.  To 
our  sorrow,  the  change  took  place  long  before  we  got  to  the 
road  again.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents;  the  thunder  bel- 
lowed; the  lightning  blazed.  It  was  now  evening,  but  the 
storm  had  brought  perfect  night,  black  and  dismal.  Our 
cart  had  no  cover.  Cold  and  wet,  we  sat  silent  and  melan- 
choly, with  no  better  expectation  than  that  of  passing  the 
night  under  the  little  shelter  the  cart  could  afford  us. 

"  To  stop  was  considered  worse  than  to  proceed.  So 
we  gave  the  reins  to  the  horses,  with  some  faint  hope  that 
they  would  drag  us  out  of  our  forlorn  state.  Of  a  sudden 
the  steeds  altered  their  course,  and  soon  after  we  perceived 
the  glimmer  of  a  faint  light  in  the  distance,  and  almost  at 
the  same  moment  heard  the  barking  of  dogs.  Our  horses 
stopped  by  a  high  fence  and  fell  a-neighing,  while  I  hal- 


VICTOR,  THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  67 

looed  at  such  a  rate  that  an  answer  was  speedily  obtained. 
The  next  moment  a  flaming  pine  torch  crossed  the  gloom, 
and  advanced  to  the  spot  where  we  stood.  The  negro  boy 
who  bore  it,  without  waiting  to  question  us,  enjoined  us  to 
follow  the  fence,  and  said  that  master  had  sent  him  to  show 
the  strangers  to  the  house.  We  proceeded,  much  relieved, 
and  soon  reached  the  gate  of  a  little  yard,  in  which  a  small 
cabin  was  perceived. 

"  A  tall,  fine-looking  young  man  stood  in  the  open  door, 
and  desired  us  to  get  out  of  the  cart  and  walk  in.  We  did 
so,  when  the  following  conversation  took  place: 

"  i  A  bad  night  this,  strangers.  How  came  you  to  be 
along  the  fence?  You  certainly  must  have  lost  your  way, 
for  there  is  no  public  road  within  twenty  miles.' 

"  '  Ay/  answered  Mr.  Flint,  (  sure  enough  we  lost  our 
way.  But,  thank  God!  we  have  got  to  a  house;  and  thank 
you  for  your  reception/ 

"  '  Reception ! '  replied  the  woodsman.  e  No  very  great 
thing,  after  all.  You  are  all  here  safe,  and  that's  enough. 
— Eliza,'  turning  to  his  wife,  '  see  about  some  victuals  for 
the  strangers. — And  you,  Jupiter,'  addressing  the  negro 
lad,  '  bring  some  wood  and  mend  the  fire. — Eliza,  call  the 
boys  up,  and  treat  the  strangers  the  best  way  you  can. — 
Come,  gentlemen,  pull  off  your  wet  clothes,  and  draw  to 
the  fire. — Eliza,  bring  some  socks  and  a  shirt  or  two.' 

"  For  my  part,  kind  reader,  knowing  my  countrymen 
as  I  do,  I  was  not  much  struck  at  all  this;  but  my  son,  who 


68  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

had  scarcely  reached  the  age  of  thirteen,  drew  near  to  me, 
and  observed  how  pleasant  it  was  to  meet  with  such  good 
people. 

"  To  all  appearance  the  united  ages  of  the  pair  under 
whose  roof  we  had  found  shelter  did  not  exceed  two  score. 
Their  means  seemed  barely  sufficient  to  render  them  com- 
fortable, but  the  generosity  of  their  young  hearts  had  no 
limits.  The  cabin  was  new.  The  logs  of  which  it  was 
formed  were  all  of  the  tulip-tree,  and  were  nicely  pared. 
Every  part  was  beautifully  clean.  Even  the  coarse  slabs 
that  formed  the  floor  looked  as  if  newly  washed  and  dried. 
Sundry  gowns  and  petticoats  of  substantial  homespun  hung 
from  the  logs  that  formed  one  of  the  sides  of  the  cabin, 
while  the  .other  was  covered  with  articles  of  male  attire. 
A  large  spinning-wheel,  with  rolls  of  wool  and  cotton,  occu- 
pied one  corner.  In  another  was  a  small  cupboard,  con- 
taining the  little  stock  of  new  dishes,  cups,  plates,  and  tin 
pans.  The  table  was  small  also,  but  quite  new,  and  as 
bright  as  polished  walnut  could  be.  The  only  bed  that  I 
saw  was  of  domestic  manufacture,  and  the  counterpane 
proved  how  expert  the  young  wife  was  at  spinning  and 
weaving. 

"  Supper  over,  we  all  neared  the  fire,  and  engaged  in 
conversation.  At  length  our  kind  host  addressed  his  wife 
as  follows:  '  Eliza,  the  gentlemen  would  like  to  lie  down, 
I  guess.  What  sort  of  bed  can  you  fix  for  them? '  Eliza 
looked  up  with  a  smile,  and  said :  '  Why,  Willy,  we  will 


VICTOR,  THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  69 

divide  the  bedding  and  arrange  half  on  the  floor,  on  which 
we  can  sleep  very  well,  and  the  gentlemen  will  have  the 
best  we  can  spare  them.7  To  this  arrangement  I  immedi- 
ately objected,  and  proposed  lying  on  a  blanket  by  the  fire; 
but  neither  Willy  nor  Eliza  would  listen.  So  they  arranged 
a  part  of  their  bedding  on  the  floor,  on  which,  after  some 
debate,  we  at  length  settled.  The  negroes  were  sent  to 
their  own  cabin,  the  young  couple  went  to  bed,  and  Mr. 
Flint  lulled  us  all  asleep  with  a  long  story  intended  to  show 
us  how  passing  strange  it  was  that  he  should  have  lost 
his  way." 

Victor  returned  from  such  adventures  exhausted,  but  it 
gave  him  the  hardy  experience  for  other  excursions. 

He  followed  his  father  with  enthusiasm  and  his  love 
of  the  forest  grew.  The  wood  folk  became  his  companions 
— the  mountaineers,  the  stage-coach  men,  the  taverners, 
and  the  little  animal  people  in  fur. 

He  loved  to  lie  under  the  sunset  trees  after  a  meal  out 
of  their  traveling  pouch,  and  to  hear  his  father  relate 
stories  of  his  adventures  when  the  latter  had  been  wan- 
dering alone.  He  delighted  also  in  asking  questions.  In 
this  way  he  learned  ornithology. 

"  Did  any  one  ever  see  a  partridge  drumming? "  asked 
Victor  of  his  father  one  day. 

America  may  be  said  to  be  Partridge  Land.  The  whir 
of  the  short  wings  of  the  partridge  is  heard  everywhere 
in  the  forest  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  The  bird  is 


70  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

alert,  beautiful,  a  lover  of  her  family.  She  feeds  on  ber- 
ries, is  true  to  her  nest,  and  has  no  habits  that  are  detri- 
mental to  man.  She  is  a  game  bird,  very  wild,  but  can  be 
domesticated  when  hatched  by  a  common  hen  and  reared 
among  her  brood.  But  the  young  bird  so  reared  still  seeks 
the  woods.  The  old  New  England  farmers  used  to  say  that 
"  the  partridge  and  the  tongue  can  never  be  tamed." 

The  question  that  Victor  asked  of  his  father  has  been 
asked  by  thousands  of  boys  who  live  near  the  woods. 

Let  us  imagine  a  scene  such  as  has  happened  a  thousand 
times.  A  cloud  is  slowly  darkening  the  sky.  There  is  a 
deep  stillness  in  the  air.  The  robins  are  singing — chirrup- 
ing. The  birds  fly  restless  from  tree  to  tree. 

Hark!  A  dead  sound  seems  to  beat  the  air.  It  is  in 
the  near  woods,  and  is  repeated. 

"  It  is  going  to  rain,"  says  the  farmer.  "  Hear  the  par- 
tridge drum." 

"  How  does  he  drum?  "  asks  the  farm-boy. 

"  No  one  knows;  few  people  ever  saw  a  partridge  drum. 
It  is  a  forest  mystery." 

Such  is  the  farmhouse  legend. 

Audubon  and  Victor  studied  the  habits  of  the  par- 
tridge. 

"  The  partridge  does  not  drum  in  captivity,"  said  Audu- 
bon; "and  did  you  ever  see  a  partridge  near  you  except 
gliding  along  in  thick  bushes  like  the  wind,  or  rising  on 
wings  which  you  heard  rather  than  saw?  " 


Mocking-birds  defending  their  nests. 


VICTOR,   THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  ft 

"  I  must  see  a  partridge  drum/'  said  Victor.  "  You 
have?" 

"  ISTot  in  the  way  that  I  wish  to  see  the  movement,"  said 
Audubon. 

"  On  what  do  partridges  drum?  " 

"  The  farmers  say  that  they  drum  on  a  stunap.  They 
have  quick  ears — they  hear  steps  at  a  long  distance.  They 
stand  on  stumps  and  listen.  They  usually  drum  when  the 
air  is  perfectly  still,  and  when  no  one  is  near." 

"I  will  discover  the  method  of  the  bird;  I  will  see  a 
partridge  drum,  if  I  have  to  lie  in  the  bushes  all  day." 

"  If  you  ever  find  a  partridge  drumming  in  clear  view, 
you  will  be  a  clever  boy — smarter  than  any  farmer  lad 
or  young  hunter  that  I  have  ever  seen.  That  is  a  sight 
that  we  will  not  be  likely  to  see  together — but  we  may." 

Victor  began  to  study  the  habits  of  the  wonderful  bird. 
They  would  sometimes  "  scare  up  "  a  partridge  from  her 
nest.  The  bird  builds  her  nest  in  hidden  and  protected 
places,  among  dead  leaves  and  grasses  of  her  own  color,  and 
if  disturbed  when  setting,  will  silently  and  quickly  remove 
her  eggs  to  another  place. 

She  will  defend  her  young  with  great  courage,  and  by 
strategy. 

She  is  a  kind  of  mesmerist,  or  hypnotist. 

When  she  is  surprised  with  her  brood,  she  will  utter  a 
pitiful  cry,  and  seem  to  be  struggling  helplessly  on  the 
ground  as  with  a  broken  wing.  Or  she  will  wheel  about 


72  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

the  feet  of  the  intruder  in  a  circle  so  as  to  draw  and  hold 
his  eye,  her  form  quivering.  While  she  is  executing  these 
confusing  movements,  her  brood  will  disappear,  and  then 
she  will  whir  away. 

One  day  a  partridge  seemed  to  fall  dead  before  them 
and  then  to  whirl  like  a  dervish. 

"  The  effect  of  the  defensive  movements  of  the  par- 
tridge's wings,  when  her  young  are  hiding,  is  a  mother's 
instinct  that  is  a  wonder,"  said  Victor.  "  See  her  wings 
quiver  as  if  wounded." 

In  a  moment  she  rose,  and  was  gone. 

They  searched  to  find  one  of  her  brood,  but  the  cunning 
little  partridges  seemed  to  have  turned  into  dead  grasses 
and  leaves. 

"  The  instinct  that  leads  the  little  partridge  to  render 
itself  invisible  is  as  wonderful  as  that  of  the  magnetic  en- 
chantment of  the  mother's  wing,"  said  Victor.  "  I  will 
take  a  day  before  the  coming  of  rain,  when  the  quails  say 
'  More  wet/  and  I  will  hide  in  some  field  of  short  bushes 
where  there  are  stumps  and  will  see  a  partridge  drum." 

"  She  carries  her  drum  with  her,"  said  Audubon. 

They  heard  the  partridge  drumming  at  a  little  distance 
wherever  they  went.  Victor  sought  to  see  how  "it  was  done 
with  still  feet,  but  the  bird's  ears  were  as  quick  as  his  feet 
were  still.  He  would  always  tread  upon  some  dead  stick 
which  would  break  and  give  warning.  Still,  he  was  resolved 
to  see  the  wonder  of  the  forests.  In  this  way  the  father 


VICTOR,   THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  73 

and  son  studied  birds  together.  Something  new  almost 
daily  would  awaken  their  curiosity,  and  it  became  a  matter 
of  life  to  them  to  follow  it  up,  and  the  wonder  of  bird-life 
grew.  Victor  was  becoming  another  "Wilson. 

The  partridge  builds  her  nest  in  hiding,  but  the  hiding- 
place  is  often  near  roads  and  lanes  as  though  there  might 
be  protection  in  the  open,  as  a  good  woman  once  hid  her 
money  in  an  open  jar  on  the  shelf.  l$o  one  would  look 
for  it  there.  The  bird  can  be  captured  by  the  hand  when 
brooding  or  fighting.  She  will  allow  the  scythe  to  strike 
her  in  the  grass  of  the  hay-field. 

One  day  they  heard  a  partridge  drumming.  Victor 
stole  away,  and  after  hours  returned  in  cheerful  excite- 
ment and  said: 

"  She  does  it  with  her  wings;  her  body  is  her  drum." 

The  two  would  come  out  of  the  forests  on  Independence 
or  training  days,  when  their  home  was  in  Kentucky.  The 
American  flag  stood  for  the  liberty  of  the  world,  and 
they  would  stop  and  hail  it  together  on  the  verge  of  the 
forest. 

Audubon  loved  the  old  Fourth  of  July,  when  the  peo- 
ple of  the  towns  assembled  to  celebrate  Independence  day 
in  the  woods.  The  flag  waving  in  the  summer  air  thrilled 
him.  He  admired  the  white-headed  eagle,  not  as  a  bird 
of  prey,  but  of  independence,  as  an  emblem  of  freedom. 

To  gather  with  the  Kentucky  merrymakers  in  some 
great  clearing  in  the  woods  on  Fourths  of  July  was  a  de- 


74  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

light  that  he  afterward  loved  to  recall,  especially  amid  the 
crowded  scenes  of  English  cities. 

Over  the  flag  floating  in  the  blue  of  the  Kentucky  sum- 
mer sky  the  eagle  wheeled  and  screamed,  as  if  all  below 
her  wings  were  hers.  The  eagles  of  Rome  and  France 
became  emblems  of  American  freedom  before  Audubon 
immortalized  the  white-headed  bird,  but  it  is  Audubon's 
eagle  that  we  find  to-day  in  the  new  insignia  everywhere. 

Audubon  had  a  pen  like  Washington  Irving  in  the  de- 
scription of  forest  scenes.  One  of  his  most  perfect  literary 
papers  is  a  description  of  an  old  Kentucky  barbecue,  or 
Independence-day  festival,  in  the  early  towns.  It  will  for- 
ever preserve  the  memory  of  the  celebration  of  liberty 
as  it  was  in  the  days  of  the  pioneers  of  the  great  river 
countries. 

He  says: 

"  Beargrass  Creek,  which  is  one  of  the  many  beautiful 
streams  of  the  highly  cultivated  and  happy  State  of  Ken- 
tucky, meanders  through  a  deeply  shaded  growth  of  ma- 
jestic beech-woods,  in  which  are  interspersed  various  species 
of  walnut,  oak,  elm,  ash,  and  other  trees,  extending  on 
either  side  of  its  course.  The  spot  on  which  I  witnessed 
the  celebration  of  an  anniversary  of  the  glorious  procla- 
mation of  our  independence  is  situated  on  its  banks  near 
the  city  of  Louisville.  The  woods  spread  their  dense  tufts 
toward  the  shores  of  the  fair  Ohio  on  the  west,  and  over 
the  gently  rising  grounds  to  the  south  and  east.  Every 


VICTOR,  THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  75 

open  spot  forming  a  plantation  was  smiling  in  the  luxuri- 
ance of  a  summer  harvest.  The  farmer  seemed  to  stand 
in  admiration  of  the  spectacle;  the  trees  of  his  orchards 
bowed  their  branches,  as  if  anxious  to  restore  to  their 
Mother  Earth  the  fruit  with  which  they  were  laden;  the 
flocks  leisurely  ruminated  as  they  lay  on  their  grassy  beds; 
and  the  genial  warmth  of  the  season  seemed  inclined  to 
favor  their  repose. 

"  The  free,  single-hearted  Kentuckian,  bold,  erect,  and 
proud  of  his  Virginian  descent,  had,  as  usual,  made  arrange- 
ments for  celebrating  the  day  of  his  country's  independ- 
ence. The  whole  neighborhood  joined  with  one  consent. 
!N"o  personal  invitation  was  required  where  every  one  was 
welcomed  by  his  neighbor,  and,  from  the  Governor  to  the 
guider  of  the  plow,  all  met  with  light  hearts  and  merry 
faces. 

"  It  was  indeed  a  beautiful  day:  the  bright  sun  rode  in 
the  clear  blue  heavens;  the  gentle  breezes  wafted  around 
the  odors  of  the  gorgeous  flowers;  the  little  birds  sang  their 
sweetest  songs  in  the  woods,  and  the  fluttering  insects 
danced  in  the  sunbeams.  Columbia's  sons  and  daughters 
seemed  to  have  grown  younger  that  morning.  For  a  whole 
week  or  more  many  servants  and  some  masters  had  been 
busily  engaged  in  clearing  an  area.  The  undergrowth  had 
been  carefully  cut  down,  the  low  boughs  lopped  off,  and  the 
grass  alone,  verdant  and  gay,  remained  to  carpet  the  sylvan 
pavilion.  Now  the  wagons  were  seen  slowly  moving  along 


76  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

under  their  load  of  provisions  which  had  been  prepared 
for  the  common  benefit.  Each  denizen  had  freely  given 
his  ox,  his  ham,  his  venison,  his  turkeys,  and  other  fowls, 
Here  were  to  be  seen  flagons  of  every  beverage  used  in  the 
country;  '  la  belle  riviere '  had  opened  her  finny  stores;  the 
melons  of  all  sorts,  peaches,  plums,  and  pears  would  have 
sufficed  to  stock  a  market.  In  a  word,  Kentucky,  the  land 
of  abundance,  had  supplied  a  feast  for  her  children.  A 
purling  stream  gave  its  waters  freely,  while  the  grateful 
breezes  cooled  the  air.  Columns  of  smoke  from  the  newly 
kindled  fires  rose  above  the  trees;  fifty  cooks  or  more 
moved  to  and  fro  as  they  plied  their  trade;  waiters  of  all 
qualities  were  disposing  the  dishes,  the  glasses  and  punch- 
bowls, amid  vases  filled  with  rich  wines.  '  Old  Mononga- 
hela '  filled  many  a  barrel  for  the  crowd.  And  now  the 
roasting  viands  perfume  the  air,  and  all  appearances  con- 
spire to  predict  the  speedy  comencement  of  a  banquet  such 
as  may  suit  the  vigorous  appetite  of  American  woodmen. 
Every  steward  is  at  his  post  ready  to  receive  the  joyous 
groups  that  at  this  moment  begin  to  emerge  from  the  dark 
recesses  of  the  woods. 

"  Each  comely  fair  one,  clad  in  pure  white,  is  seen  ad- 
vancing under  the  protection  of  her  sturdy  lover,  the  neigh- 
ing of  their  prancing  steeds  proclaiming  how  proud  they 
are  of  their  burden.  The  youthful  riders  leap  from  their 
seats,  and  the  horses  are  speedily  secured  by  twisting  their 
bridles  round  a  branch.  As  the  youth  of  Kentucky  lightly 


VICTOR,   THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  77 

and  gayly  advanced  toward  the  barbecue,  they  resembled 
a  procession  of  nymphs  and  disguised  divinities.  Fathers 
and  mothers  smiled  upon  them  as  they  followed  the  bril- 
liant cortege.  In  a  short  time  the  ground  was  alive  with 
merriment.  A  great  wooden  cannon  bound  with  iron  hoops 
was  now  crammed  with  home-made  powder,  fire  was  con- 
veyed to  it  by  means  of  a  train,  and  as  the  explosion  burst 
forth,  thousands  of  hearty  huzzas  mingled  with  its  echoes. 
From  the  most  learned  a  good  oration  fell  in  proud  and 
gladdening  words  on  every  ear,  and  although  it  probably 
did  not  equal  the  eloquence  of  a  Clay,  an  Everett,  a  Web- 
ster, or  a  Preston,  it  served  to  remind  every  Kentuckian 
present  of  the  glorious  name,  the  patriotism,  the  courage, 
and  the  virtue  of  our  immortal  Washington.  Fifes  and 
drums  sounded  the  march  which  had  ever  led  him  to  glory; 
and  as  they  changed  to  our  celebrated  Yankee  Doodle,  the 
air  again  rang  with  acclamations. 

"  Now  the  stewards  invited  the  assembled  throngs  to 
the  feast.  The  fair  led  the  van,  and  were  first  placed 
around  the  tables,  which  groaned  under  the  profusion  of 
the  best  productions  of  the  country  that  had  been  heaped 
upon  them.  On  each  lovely  nymph  attended  her  gay  beau, 
who  in  her  chance  or  sidelong  glances  ever  watched  an 
opportunity  of  reading  his  happiness.  How  the  viands 
diminished  under  the  action  of  so  many  agents  of  destruc- 
tion I  need  not  say,  nor  is  it  necessary  that  you  should 
listen  to  the  long  recital.  Many  a  national  toast  was  offered 


78  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

and  accepted,  many  speeches  were  delivered,  and  many 
essayed  in  amicable  reply.  The  ladies  then  retired  to 
booths  that  had  been  erected  at  a  little  distance,  to  which 
they  were  conducted  by  their  partners,  who  returned  to 
the  table,  and  having  thus  cleared  for  action,  recommenced 
a  series  of  hearty  rounds.  However,  as  Kentuckians  are 
neither  slow  nor  long  at  their  meals,  all  were  in  a  few  min- 
utes replenished,  and  after  a  few  more  draughts  from  the 
bowl  they  rejoined  the  ladies  and  prepared  for  the  dance. 
"  Double  lines  of  a  hundred  fair  ones  extended  along 
the  ground  in  the  most  shady  part  of  the  woods,  while  here 
and  there  smaller  groups  awaited  the  merry  trills  of  reels 
and  cotillions.  A  burst  of  music  from  violins,  clarinets, 
and  bugles  gave  the  welcome  notice,  and  presently  the 
whole  assemblage  seemed  to  be  gracefully  moving  through 
the  air.  The  e  hunting-shirts  ?  now  joined  in  the  dance, 
their  fringed  skirts  keeping  time  with  the  gowns  of  the 
ladies,  and  the  married  people  of  either  sex  stepped  in  and 
mixed  with  their  children.  Every  countenance  beamed 
with  joy,  every  heart  leaped  with  gladness;  no  pride,  no 
pomp,  no  affectation  were  there;  their  spirits  brightened 
as  they  continued  their  exhilarating  exercise,  and  care  and 
sorrow  were  flung  to  the  winds.  During  each  interval  of 
rest  refreshments  of  all  sorts  were  handed  round,  and  while 
the  fair  one  cooled  her  lips  with  the  grateful  juice  of  the 
melon,  the  hunter  of  Kentucky  quenched  his  thirst  with 
ample  draughts  of  well-tempered  punch. 


VICTOR,  THE  SON  OF  AUDUBON  79 

"  I  know,  reader,  that  had  you  been  with  me  on  that 
day  you  would  have  richly  enjoyed  the  sight  of  this  national 
fete-champetre.  You  would  have  listened  with  pleasure 
to  the  ingenuous  tale  of  the  lover,  the  wise  talk  of  the 
elder  on  the  affairs  of  the  State,  the  accounts  of  improve- 
ment in  stock  and  utensils,  and  the  hopes  of  continued  pros- 
perity to  the  country  at  large,  and  to  Kentucky  in  particu- 
lar. You  would  have  been  pleased  to  see  those  who  did 
not  join  in  the  dance  shooting  at  distant  marks  with  their 
heavy  rifles,  or  watched  how  they  showed  off  the  superior 
speed  of  their  high-bred  i  Old  Virginia  '  horses,  while  others 
recounted  their  hunting  exploits,  and  at  intervals  made 
the  woods  ring  with  their  bursts  of  laughter.  With  me  the 
time  sped  like  an  arrow  in  its  flight,  and  although  more  than 
twenty  years  have  elapsed  since  I  joined  a  Kentucky  bar- 
becue, my  spirit  is  refreshed  every  Fourth  of  July  by  the 
recollection  of  that  day's  merriment. 

"  But  now  the  sun  has  declined,  and  the  shades  of  even- 
ing creep  over  the  scene.  Large  fires  are  lighted  in  the 
woods,  casting  the  long  shadows  of  the  live  columns  far 
along  the  trodden  ground,  and  flaring  on  the  happy  groups 
loath  to  separate.  In  the  still,  clear  sky  begin  to  sparkle 
the  distant  lamps  of  heaven.  One  might  have  thought 
that  nature  herself  smiled  on  the  joy  of  her  children.  Sup- 
per now  appeared  on  the  tables,  and,  after  all  had  again 
refreshed  themselves,  preparations  were  made  for  depart- 
ure. The  lover  hurried  for  the  steed  of  his  fair  one,  the 


gO  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

hunter  seized  the  arm  of  his  friend,  families  gathered  into 
loving  groups,  and  all  returned  in  peace  to  their  happy 
homes. 

"  And  now,  reader,  allow  me  also  to  take  my  leave,  and 
wish  you  good-night,  trusting  that,  when  I  again  appear 
with  another  volume,  you  will  be  ready  to  welcome  me 
with  a  cordial  greeting." 


CHAPTEK  X 

IN   DAYS   OF   POVEETY FATHER   AND    SON DANIEL   BOONE 

THE  poverty  of  Audubon  in  the  middle  period  of  his 
life,  when  he  was  nearly  completing  his  collections,  was  that 
of  a  martyr  to  science.  He  had  a  true  wife  and  true  hearts 
in  his  boys. 

"  The  world  deemed  me  mad,"  he  said,  "  but  my  family 
believed  in  me." 

Mrs.  Audubon  wished  him  to  go  to  London,  to  study 
the  use  of  oils  in  making  perfect  his  paintings.  To  help 
him,  she  opened  a  school.  After  a  struggle  it  became  suc- 
cessful, and  brought  to  her  a  large  income.  This  she 
offered  to  her  husband:  his  interests  were  her  interests;  his 
life  her  life. 

But  Victor  Audubon,  his  son — who  had  traveled  with 
his  father,  slept  with  him  in  the  open,  ate  with  him 
from  the  bushes,  and  secured  game  for  him,  while  he  be- 
came lost  in  study  of  some  new  bird — was  a  boy  indeed 
worthy  of  such  a  grand  parent.  He  went  into  a  store 
at  Louisville  for  a  time,  desiring,  like  his  mother,  to 
make  his  father's  noble  work  as  easy  and  as  perfect  as 

possible. 

6  81 


82  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Miserably  poor  the  American  woodman  was!  Let  me 
give  some  pictures  of  him  in  his  poverty. 

From  a  boy  he  had  read  of  the  glory  of  Niagara. 

In  August,  1824,  he  heard  the  thunder  of  the  cataract 
from  afar  and  approached  the  falls.  He  was  overwhelmed 
at  the  spectacle,  as  it  were,  of  an  overthrown  sea.  He 
exclaims : 

"  All  trembling  I  reached  the  falls  of  Niagara,  and 
oh,  what  a  scene!  My  blood  shudders  still  at  the  gran- 
deur of  the  Creator's  power  that  is  here  displayed.  The 
falls,  the  rainbow,  the  rapids  defy  description  with  the 
pen!  " 

But  what  a  humiliating  confession  follows  these  ex- 
ultant words.  He  says: 

"  I  moved  toward  the  rapids,  over  which  there  is  a 
bridge  to  Goat  Island,  that  I  fain  would  have  crossed  to 
look  at  the  water  which  is  running  with  incredible  swift- 
ness below,  but  I  was  deterred  ~by  the  low  state  of  my 
funds!" 

He  could  not  spare  the  money  to  pay  the  toll  over  the 
bridge. 

Soon  afterward  his  purse  was  reduced  to  "  one  hundred 
and  fifty  cents." 

He  went  to  a  prosperous  pioneer  town  and  replenished 
his  purse  by  portrait-painting. 

He  tells  us  how  he  felt  when  destitute  in  Cincinnati, 
before  asking  a  loan  of  money. 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY  83 

"  Without  money  or  means  of  making  it,  I  applied  to 
Messrs.  Keating  and  Bell  for  the  loan  of  fifteen  dollars, 
but  I  had  not  the  courage  to  do  so  until  I  had  walked  by 
their  house  several  times,  unable  to  make  up  my  mind  how 
to  ask  the  favor. 

"  I  got  the  loan  cheerfully,  and  took  a  deck  passage  for 
Louisville. 

"  I  was  allowed  to  take  my  meals  in  the  cabin,  but  at 
night  slept  among  some  shavings  that  I  managed  to  scrape 
together." 

He  gave  lessons  in  music,  French,  and  drawing  at  a 
country  town. 

In  these  ways  he  collected  money  enough  to  pay  his 
passage  to  Europe,  hoping  there  to  show  what  America  was 
in  the  wealth  of  her  birds. 

"  I  am  alone  in  the  world,  my  son,"  he  would  say  in 
substance  to  Victor,  "  but  I  will  not  always  be.  The  old 
text  rings  in  my  ears,  that  *  the  man  diligent  in  his  busi- 
ness shall  stand  before  kings/  I  have  done  as  perfect 
work  as  one  could  do  in  America,  and  it  will  win  its  own 
harvest. 

"  If  I  die  before  my  work  is  completed,  you  must  carry 
on  my  work.  It  is  the  joy  of  a  father  to  see  his  life  go  on 
in  his  son." 

"  My  father  thinks  of  nothing  but  birds,"  said  Victor 
Audubon  to  his  mother.  "  Nature  study  is  his  life,  but  he 
is  poor.  We  must  guard  his  honor,  and  see  that  he  makes 


84:  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

for  himself  an  honest  fame.  See  what  Europe  is  doing 
for  her  scientists!  " 

"  What  have  you  read,  Victor?  " 

"  Cuvier  was  poor,  he  struggled  hard,  and  now  he  has 
not  only  been  made  perpetual  secretary  of  the  National 
Institute  of  Paris  and  may  live  like  a  prince,  but  they  are 
about  to  make  him  a  baron." 

"  Well,  no  one  has  better  earned  his  fame,  unless  it  be 
Humboldt.  Napoleon  admitted  him  to  the  Council  of 
State,  and  the  Bourbons  are  outdoing  Napoleon,  but  Victor 
Cuvier  has  made  a  new  scientific  world." 

"  And  my  father's  work  ought  to  reveal  to  Europe  what 
she  can  find  in  the  forests  of  America.  It  ought  to  make 
the  dull  English  king  hear  the  birds  singing.  I  have 
rounded  the  forests  with  my  father,  and  I  want  him  to  see 
his  work  valued  at  its  worth.  Did  you  know  that  Europe 
was  honoring  Wilson? " 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  so.  Wilson  has  done  good  work  out 
of  an  hdnest  heart.  Think  how  he  suffered  and  strug- 
gled! " 

"  But  his  work  is  less  accurate  than  father's.  If  the 
Kings  of  England  and  Prussia  so  honor  Humboldt,  and  Ber- 
lin and  Paris  contend  for  him  as  a  citizen,  why  should  not 
my  father's  worth  be  recognized? " 

"America  will  do  it  one  day,  my  son;  worth  reveals 
itself." 

"  He  has  told  me  in  the  forests  how  Humboldt  looked 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY  85 

as  he  appeared  before  the  Academy.  His  breast  shone  with 
gold  and  gems. 

"  The  description  fires  me.  I  want  to  go  to  London 
with  father,  and  help  him  to  let  the  scientific  nobility  see 
what  the  value  of  his  work  is.  It  would  make  me  happy 
to  see  him  wearing  a  star  on  his  breast,  or  possess  a  gold 
snuff-box  from  the  Czar." 

"  A  snuff-box  is  no  fitting  reward  of  worth,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  Not  if  he  were  a  snuff -taker ;  but  as  a  gift  from  an 
emperor,  as  a  sign  of  social  equality,  it  is." 

"  Well,  the  Czar  may  have  a  snuff-box  in  store  for  your 
father — who  knows?  The  Bourbons  may  have  a  star  for 
him." 

"  He  would  never  win  the  gold  box  or  the  star  himself. 
He  is  too  modest.  I  wish  to  go  to  Europe  with  him,  and  I 
will  work  as  hard  for  him  in  the  court  circles  of  scientists 
as  I  have  done  in  the  forest.  I  can  canvass  for  his 
books,  and  I  can  look  the  pride  I  feel  in  such  a  father  as 
he.  Think  of  all  that  we  have  been  to  each  other!  How 
we  have  watched  the  ospreys  feeding  their  nests!  How 
we  have  heard  the  night  birds  pass,  and  talked  of  the  notes 
of  the  insect  gatherers  that  we  could  no.t  see!  How  we 
loved  nature's  children  together,  and  have  talked,  lying 
in  a  cave,  of  how  all  life  had  one  source — God!  How 
we  have  studied  the  animals  whose  antlers  broke  down  the 
forests,  the  insects  in  armor,  and  have  waited  for  hours  to 


86  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

verify  a  single  habit  of  a  little  bird!  My  father  is  a  won- 
derful man.  He  ought  to  be  recognized  as  a  benefactor, 
and  he  shall  be  if  I  have  a  chance  for  influence  among  the 
picture-buyers  of  the  times." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that  your  father  is  a  good 
man.  If  he  ever  should  wear  a  star,  after  all  the  ridicule 
that  has  been  heaped  upon  him,  how  glad  we  would  be  that 
we  have  been  so  faithful  to  him!  " 

"  And  if  he  should  not  win  stars,  or  snuff-boxes,  we  will 
also  be  glad,  mother." 

"  Victor,  you  have  spoken  well.  It  is  the  true  life  to 
be  doing  that  which  will  make  us  satisfied  at  last." 

Audubon  made  Victor  his  companion  almost  constantly, 
as  his  work  in  the  study  of  American  birds  grew. 

In  their  journeys  when  they  stopped  at  the  cabins  of 
the  pioneers  they  became  interested  in  Daniel  Boone,  who 
was  a  naturalist  and  a  famous  story-teller. 

It  was  a  delight  to  the  boy  to  hear  such  men  relate 
tales  of  their  adventures  in  the  evening  by  the  cabin  door. 

In  meeting  Daniel  Boone,  "  the  first  white  man  of  the 
West,"  Audubon  found  the  one  man  who  knew  the  birds 
and  beasts  of  Transylvania  well.  He  could  gain  from  him 
a  knowledge  of  rare  birds  and  quadrupeds  that  could  have 
been  obtained  as  well  from  no  other  white  man. 

Boone  had  once  gone  on  an  expedition  to  the  great 
Blue  Licks  of  Kentucky  to  obtain  salt  for  the  garrison  of 
the  pioneer  fort,  and  had  been  captured  by  the  Indians. 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY 


87 


The  first  question  that  he  asked  himself  in  his  early 
captivity  was,  "How  can  I  escape?  "  This  was  impossible 
at  that  time.  His  next  question  was,  "  How  can  I  make 
my  captivity  a  means  of  escape  ? "  His  answer  was,  "  By 
service  and  silence." 

He  followed  this  policy.     The  Indians,  wishing  to  show 
their  prowess,  carried  him  about  for  a  show.     He  served 
them  well,  and  studied  the  coun- 
try   wherever    he    went.      They 
carried  him  to  Detroit  as  a  pris- 
oner on  exhibition.     He  served 
them   so   well   that   they   deter- 
mined to  make  him  a  member  of 
their  tribe. 

When  they  made  a  new  man 
a  member  of  their  tribes,  the 
Indians  initiated  the  captive  with 
some  very  strange  ceremonies. 
The  initiated  must  be  made  to 
wear  a  tuft-lock,  or  a  single  tuft  of  hair  on  the  top  of  his 
head. 

They  commenced  pulling  out  Boone's  hair,  spear  by 
spear,  until  a  single  tuft  was  left.  This  they  tied  up  with 
fantastic  ribbons  of  bark,  or  other  material.  They  tried 
to  wash  his  white  blood  out  of  him  by  dipping  him  into 
cold  water.  His  body  thus  grew  red.  Then  they  painted 
his  face  and  ornamented  him,  and  one  of  his  old  friends 


88  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

at  the  fort  would  have  thought  him  an  Indian  had  he  sud- 
denly returned. 

During  his  long  captivity,  his  wife,  who  lived  in  Ken- 
tucky, despaired  of  his  ever  returning  again.  She  had  come 
to  Transylvania  from  North  Carolina,  and  she  returned  to 
North  Carolina  with  her  family. 

Boone  at  last  escaped  from  the  Indians.  He  returned 
to  his  old  home  to  find  his  wife  gone,  and  he  followed  her 
back  to  her  old  home  in  Carolina.  What  must  she  have 
thought  when  she  saw  her  husband  returning  more  an 
Indian  in  appearance  than  a  white  man? 

In  all  these  adventures  Boone  studied  the  woods.  He 
learned  their  wonders,  and  he  gave  all  his  strange  dis- 
coveries in  the  bird  kingdom  to  Audubon.  He  told  him 
where  rare  birds  had  their  nests  and  how  to  find  them, 
where  rare  animals  lived  and  how  to  capture  them,  and  to 
study  their  habits.  He  helped  the  woodman  to  do  work 
that  would  never  need  to  be  done  again. 

Captain  Boone  one  day  came  to  visit  Audubon,  and 
spent  the  night  under  his  roof.  The  two  sat  down  to  relate 
their  adventures  in  the  woods,  one  of  which  was  substan- 
tially as  follows: 

"  I  once  went  out  to  hunt,"  said  Captain  Boone, 
"  among  hostile  Indians.  I  kindled  a  fire  for  roasting  of 
food  and  protection,  but  when  night  came  on  I  was  afraid 
that  the  light  might  attract  the  eye  of  some  Indian  wan- 
derer, so  I  stamped  out  the  burning  fagots. 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY  89 

"  The  woods  were  still.  I  was  about  sinking  into  sleep 
when  suddenly  I  felt  a  hand  as  of  a  giant  laid  upon  my 
shoulder.  I  rose  up,  and  was  overpowered  by  an  unseen 
foe,  my  hands  were  tied,  and  I  was  pushed  forward  toward 
an  Indian  encampment. 

"  There  was  much  palaver.  There  were  fierce-looking 
squaws  in  the  encampment,  and  my  appearance  created 
great  excitement. 

"  I  was  their  captive,  and  I  could  see  that  they  intended 
to  deal  with  me  after  their  savagery.  The  women  were 
drinking  from  a  flask  which  the  men  had  captured. 

"  Suddenly  a  shot  was  heard  in  the  woods.  I  know  not 
from  whom  it  came.  The  Indians  understood,  and  rushed 
off  in  the  direction  of  it,  leaving  the  squaws  to  guard  me 
until  their  return. 

"  I  saw  now  my  chance  for  escape,  but  my  hands  first 
must  be  free. 

"  When  the  women  were  a  little  off  their  guard,  I  sud- 
denly thrust  my  wrists  toward  the  fire,  so  as  to  burn  off 
the  withes. 

"  I  then  suddenly  appeared  before  the  astonished  and 
terrified  squaws  free.  I  resolved  to  mark  the  place,  and 
before  I  dashed  away  I  cut  three  notches  in  an  ash-tree." 

The  sequel  to  this  story  was  strange  indeed,  and  became 
a  folk-lore  tale  of  the  woods  through  which  the  smoke  of 
new  cabins  was  constantly  curling. 

The  three  notches  on  the  ash-tree  were  grown  over  by 


90  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

new  bark  when  a  great  dispute  arose  in  regard  to  a  certain 
boundary.  It  was  agreed  that  the  true  boundary  began 
or  ended  with  the  ash-tree  of  three  notches.  But  the  tree 
could  not  be  found. 

The  controversy  lasted  long. 

"  Find  us  Boone's  ash,"  said  the  backwoods  judge,  "  and 
the  case  will  be  settled." 

"  I  must  find  Captain  Boone  first,"  said  a  lawyer. 

Captain  Boone  was  found,  and  he  revisited  the  place 
of  his  short  captivity. 

<l  That  is  the  tree,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  lofty  ash. 
"  It  has  grown  since  then." 

"  Prove  it,"  said  the  lawyer. 

Captain  Boone  went  to  the  tree  and  stripped  off  the 
bark  at  a  certain  angle.  Under  the  bark  three  notches 
clearly  appeared. 

The  tree  became  known  as  "  Boone's  ash." 

In  the  early  days  of  the  pioneers  there  were  earth- 
quakes in  the  South,  like  the  one  that  threw  down  Charles- 
ton some  years  ago.  But  only  the  Indians  and  a  few  white 
adventurers  knew  of  them.  In  the  year  1812  an  earth- 
quake made  the  earth  tremble  from  Kentucky  to  the  Mis- 
sissippi River.  Audubon,  in  clear,  graphic  language,  repaid 
Boone  by  a  story  of  this  earthquake. 

He  said  that  he  was  riding  on  horseback  when  he  heard 
a  sound  as  of  a  tornado,  "  on  which,"  to  use  his  own  descrip- 
tion as  written  out,  "  I  spurred  my  steed,  with  a  wish  to 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY  9l 

gallop  as  fast  as  possible  to  the  place  of  shelter.  But  it 
would  not  do;  the  animal  knew  better  than  I  what  was 
forthcoming,  and  instead  of  going  faster,  so  nearly  stopped 
that  I  remarked  he  placed  one  foot  after  another  on  the 
ground  with  as  much  precaution  as  if  walking  on  a  smooth 
sheet  of  ice.  I  thought  he  had  suddenly  foundered,  and, 
speaking  to  him,  was  on  the  point  of  dismounting  and  lead- 
ing him,  when  all  of  a  sudden  he  fell  a-groaning  piteously, 
hung  his  head,  spread  out  his  four  legs,  as  if  to  save  him- 
self from  falling,  and  stood  stock  still,  continuing  to  groan. 
I  thought  my  horse  was  about  to  die,  and  would  have 
sprung  from  his  back  had  a  moment  more  elapsed;  but  at 
that  instant  all  the  shrubs  and  trees  began  to  move  from 
their  very  roots,  the  ground  rose  and  fell  in  successive  fur- 
rows, like  the  ruffled  waters  of  a  lake,  and  I  became  be- 
wildered in  my  ideas,  as  I  too  plainly  discovered  that  all 
this  awful  commotion  in  nature  was  the  result  of  an  earth- 
quake. 

"  I  had  never  witnessed  anything  of  the  kind  before, 
although,  like  every  other  person,  I  knew  of  earthquakes 
by  description.  But  what  is  description  compared  with 
reality?  Who  can  tell  of  the  sensations  which  I  experi- 
enced when  I  found  myself  rocking,  as  it  were,  upon  my 
horse,  and  with  him  moved  to  and  fro  like  a  child  in  a 
cradle,  with  the  most  imminent  danger  around  me?  The 
fearful  convulsion,  however,  lasted  only  a  few  minutes,  and 
the  heavens  again  brightened  as  quickly  as  they  had  be- 


92  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

come  obscured;  my  horse  brought  his  feet  to  the  natural 
position,  raised  his  head,  and  galloped  off  as  if  loose  and 
frolicking  without  a  rider. 

"  I  was  not,  however,  without  great  apprehension  re- 
specting my  family,  from  whom  I  was  many  miles  distant, 
fearful  that  where  they  were  the  shock  might  have  caused 
greater  havoc  than  I  had  witnessed.  I  gave  the  bridle  to 
my  steed,  and  was  glad  to  see  him  appear  as  anxious  to  get 
home  as  myself.  The  pace  at  which  he  galloped  accom- 
plished this  sooner  than  I  had  expected,  and  I  found,  with 
much  pleasure,  that  hardly  any  greater  harm  had  taken 
place  than  the  apprehension  excited  for  my  own  safety. 
Shock  succeeded  shock  almost  every  day  or  night  for  sev- 
eral weeks,  diminishing,  however,  so  gradually  as  to  dwindle 
away  into  mere  vibrations  of  the  earth.  Strange  to  say,  I 
for  one  became  so  accustomed  to  the  feeling  as  rather  to 
enjoy  the  fears  manifested  by  others.  I  never  can  forget 
the  effects  of  one  of  the  slighter  shocks  which  took  place 
when  I  was  at  a  friend's  house,  where  I  had  gone  to  enjoy 
the  merriment  that  in  our  Western  country  attends  a  wed- 
ding. The  ceremony  being  performed,  supper  over,  and 
the  fiddles  tuned,  dancing  became  the  order  of  the  moment. 
This  was  merrily  followed  up  to  a  late  hour,  when  the 
party  retired  to  rest.  We  were  in  what  is  called,  with  great 
propriety,  a  log  house;  one  of  large  dimensions  and  solidly 
constructed.  The  owner  was  a  physician,  and  in  one  corner 
were  not  only  his  lancets,  tourniquets,  amputating  knives, 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY  93 

and  other  sanguinary  apparatus,  but  all  the  drugs  which  he 
employed  for  the  relief  of  his  patients,  arranged  in  jars 
and  vials  of  different  sizes.  These  had  some  days  before 
made  a  narrow  escape  from  destruction,  but  had  been  for- 
tunately preserved  by  closing  the  doors  of  the  cases  in 
which  they  were  contained. 

"  As  I  have  said,  we  had  all  retired  to  rest.  Morning 
was  fast  approaching,  when  the  rumbling  sound  that  pre- 
cedes the  earthquake  began  so  loudly  as  to  awaken  the 
whole  party,  and  drive  them  out  of  bed  in  the  greatest  con- 
sternation. The  scene  which  ensued  was  humorous  in  the 
extreme.  Fear  knows  no  restraint.  Every  person,  old  and 
young,  filled  with  alarm  at  the  creaking  of  the  log  house, 
and  apprehending  instant  destruction,  rushed  wildly  out  to 
the  grass  enclosure  fronting  the  building.  The  full  moon 
was  slowly  descending  from  her  throne,  covered  at  times 
by  clouds  that  rolled  heavily  along,  as  if  to  conceal  from 
her  the  scenes  of  terror  which  prevailed  on  earth  below. 

"  On  the  grass  plot  we  all  met,  in  such  condition  as 
rendered  it  next  to  impossible  to  discriminate  any  of  the 
party,  all  huddled  together  in  a  state  of  almost  perfect 
nudity.  The  earth  waved  like  a  field  of  corn  before  the 
breeze;  the  birds  left  their  perches,  and  flew  about  not 
knowing  whither;  and  the  doctor,  recollecting  the  danger 
of  his  gallipots,  ran  to  his  office  to  prevent  their  dancing 
off  the  shelves  to  the  floor.  Never  for  a  moment  did  he 
think  of  closing  the  doors,  but,  spreading  his  arms,  jumped 


94  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

about  the  front  of  the  cases,  pushing  back  here  and  there 
the  falling  jars,  but  with  so  little  success  that  before  the 
shock  was  over  he  had  lost  nearly  all  he  possessed." 

This  curious  story  illustrates  how  strong  is  one's  su- 
preme passion  even  when  death  seems  impending.  Any 
passion  may  be  stronger  than  the  fear  of  death,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  doctor  and  his  gallipots,  the  latter  of  which  were 
his  priceless  treasures,  which  he  felt  that  the  world  needed 
more  than  any  other  thing. 

Such  were  the  forest  tales  of  Victor's  early  years. 

His  love  of  the  forest  grew.  He  studied  the  language 
of  the  birds — he  lay  as  one  entranced  under  the  great  trees. 

The  sunrise  brought  him  birds;  in  the  sunset  he  watched 
the  wings  going  home  to  their  nest.  The  solitudes  brought 
him  no  sense  of  loneliness.  The  world  was  all  alive  to  him 
wherever  he  traveled,  slept,  and  woke. 

In  this  interesting  period  of  the  transition  of  the  forests 
from  savage  to  civilized  life  there  arose  a  man  who  in 
some  respects  resembled  Audubon,  although  Audubon 
seems  to  have  undervalued  his  work.  It  was  George  Cat- 
lin,  who  had  the  genius  of  painting  Indians.  Audubon 
criticises  him  as  "  over-painting  "  the  children  of  the  for- 
ests, as  representing  them  in  too  picturesque  and  heroic 
attitudes.  This  man  felt  that  to  paint  Indians  was  his 
mission.  He  wandered  the  forests  of  North  and  South 
America  in  the  belief  that  he  was  doing  notable  work  for 
the  future. 


IN  DAYS  OF  POVERTY  95 

He  was  born  in  Wyoming  Valley  in  1796,  studied  law, 
and  lived  to  be  nearly  eighty  years  of  age. 

He  was  a  self-taught  painter,  and  loved  his  art.  His 
invaluable  pictures  may  be  seen  in  the  National  Museum, 
Washington,  and  copies  of  them  in  many  collections  of  illus- 
trations of  primitive  wood  life  in  America.  He  did  a  great 
and  noble  work. 

He  loved  the  Indians.  He  introduced  a  party  of 
American  Indians  to  Queen  Victoria  and  the  Prince  Con- 
sort, and  he  sought  to  protect  the  rights  of  the  Indians  in 
all  possible  ways.  He  as  well  earned  the  praise  of  the  name 
of  Protector  of  the  Indians  as  Audubon  did  of  the  Pro- 
tector of  Birds.  He  believed  the  Indians  to  be  of  Asiatic 
origin.  He  studied  what  was  noble  in  them,  and  so  he 
arrived  at  this  conclusion  in  regard  to  them.  He  went 
to  Europe  and  made  for  himself  a  great  name  among 
scientists. 


CHAPTEE  XI 

A    NOBLE    WIFE 

ONE  day  Audubon  came  home  in  great  excitement. 

"  I  have  lost  my  property  again,"  he  said;  "  all  has 
gone.  I  am  as  a  beggar!  " 

"  ~No — all  has  not  gone,"  said  his  serene  and  beautiful 
wife;  "  you  have  me  left,  and  the  boys." 

"  I  took  you  from  luxury.  What  can  you  do  for  me 
now?" 

"Work!     I  can  teach." 

"  But  my  boys,  my  dear  boys?  " 

"  I  can  educate  them." 

"  It  was  in  no  desire  for  glory,"  said  he,  and  here  we 
use  his  exact  words  in  a  like  episode,  "  which  led  me  into 
this  exile.  I  wished  only  to  enjoy  nature." 

"  Go  on  with  your  studies,"  said  his  wife;  "  though  the 
world  turn  against  you,  we  will  be  true.  You  are  doing  a 
work  for  the  world,  and  we  will  work  for  you." 

Mrs.  Audubon  became  a  governess  and  then  a  teacher. 
The  great  plantations  were  rich  at  that  time,  and  her  high 
character  and  accomplishments  brought  her  pupils  that  ren- 
dered her  an  income  of  several  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

She  established  a  school  at  Bayou  Sara,  La. 
96 


A  NOBLE  WIFE  97 

How  had  he  again  lost  his  property?  He  had  sur- 
rendered one  estate  to  his  sister,  and  had  failed  in  business. 

Audubon's  father  died.  He  had  left  him  an  estate  of 
some  seventeen  thousand  dollars,  but  his  agent  lost  the 
property.  He  was  penniless  again. 

Empty-handed,  he  wandered  the  wilderness  again,  paint- 
ing birds  in  a  way  that  would  never  be  superseded. 

"  You  should  see  him  studying  a  worthless  bird  in  the 
woods  among  the  rocks  with  his  son,"  said  the  stage-coach 
driver.  "  Why,  can  you  think  it  ?  He  stuffed  a  dead  sheep 
with  hay,  and  he  and  his  boy  watched  it  to  see  a  buzzard 
come  down  and  get  fooled!  Think  of  that — fooling  a  car- 
rion bird,  and  his  property  all  gone,  and  his  poor  wife  keep- 
ing school!  They  say  that  he  has  fooled  his  wife  and  boys." 

"  What  does  he  want  to  fool  the  buzzard  for? "  asked 
a  waiting  passenger,  who  had  heard  this  strange  story. 

"  To  see  if  the  buzzard  could  smell." 

The  waiting  passenger  laughed,  and  the  old  stage  man 
added: 

"  Who  in  the  world  cares  whether  a  buzzard  can  smell 
or  not?" 

But  before  Audubon  could  write  his  description  of  the 
buzzard  in  his  Ornithological  Biographies,  lie  must  know 
whether  it  was  acute  sight  or  acuteness  of  the  sense  of 
smell  that  brought  the  buzzard  down  to  this  rotting  food 
like  a  speck  from  the  sky. 

So  passed  years  with  the  family.    They  read  from  time 

7 


98  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

to  time  of  how  the  great  naturalists  of  Europe  were  ban- 
queted by  kings. 

"  Don't  let  your  heart  sink,"  Mrs.  Audubon  would  say 
to  him.  "  You  have  me  and  you  have  the  prophecy  of 
your  old  home,  and  some  day  a  prince  may  give  you  some- 
thing. If  he  does,  remember  I  was  true  to  your  purpose, 
and  true  to  you.  Oh,  what  an  hour  that  would  be!  But 
suppose  it  were  never  to  come,  your  worth  and  value  would 
be  the  same.  But  it  will  come,  it  will  come;  my  soul  tells 
me  that  it  will  come. 

"  But  suppose  it  were  never  to  come,  your  worth  and 
value  would  be  the  same.  But  it  will  come,  it  will  come; 
my  soul  tells  me  that  it  will  come." 

"  I  hope  it  will,  my  true  wife,  for  Victor's  sake !  " 

Victor?     He  was  his  father's  heart. 

In  these  dark  days,  when  the  family  was  separated,  the 
mother  and  boy  met.  They  talked  long. 

"  Worth  lies  within,  and  happiness  comes  from  within," 
said  she.  "  I  know  not  what  may  happen  to  me,  but  what- 
ever comes  I  want  you  to  be  true  to  your  father,  and  to  his 
work,  which  is  his  life." 

"  I  will  be  true  to  him,  mother,  whatever  may  happen 
to  him  or  you.  I  love  my  father." 

"  And  I  will  be  true  to  you,  Victor,  and  we  will  all  be 
true  to  our  own!  " 


CHAPTEE   XII 

VICTOE,    THE    FOREST    BOY HOW    HE    STUDIED    NATUEE 

So  they  became  companions — father  and  son. 

Victor  accompanied  his  father  on  long  and  lonely  jour- 
neys, far  from  the  Kentucky  and  Ohio  Rivers,  where  white 
feet  had  never  gone  before.  He  loved  his  father's  calling 
more  and  more,  and  he  began  to  be  jealous  of  his  father's 
reputation  when  he  heard  of  Wilson's  fame.  Was  he  lone- 
some in  these  far-away  solitudes,  where  birds  had  sung 
beyond  the  sound  of  the  human  ear? 

No;  how  could  he  be?  The  bird's  song  to  him  was  a 
divine  voice  among  the  trees  wherever  he  went.  Some- 
thing new  and  wonderful  happened  each  day. 

Let  us  follow  the  forest  boy.  It  is  Saturday  evening, 
far  away  from  any  human  habitation.  The  sea  lies  fifty 
miles  away.  Rocks  covered  with  pines  and  great  crags  of 
moss  rise  about  the  two  naturalists. 

"  We  will  rest  under  the  rocks  to-night,"  said  Audubon, 
"  and  listen  to  the  sounds  of  the  descending  wings.  The 
fishing-birds  will  be  coming  home  from  the  sea." 

They  ate  a  spare  supper  out  of  the  food  pouch,  and 
listened. 


100  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

The  red  hazes  of  the  twilight  sky  became  flecked  with 
wings.  The  herons  and  sea-feeding  birds  were  returning. 
Then  the  two  began  to  study  the  motions  and  the  vibra- 
tions of  descending  wings. 

"  They  are  the  sounds/'  said  the  naturalist,  "  of  the 
birds  coming  home."  Cheerful  and  love-lighting  sounds 
they  were,  like  the  returning  footsteps  of  the  father  to  the 
fireside  of  his  children.  Nature  has  music  that  the  common 
ear  does  not  hear. 

They  slept  under  the  pines.  Above  them  passed  the 
unseen  wings  of  the  night-hawks.  Afar  hooted  the  owl. 

With  Sunday  morning  came  an  uplift  of  wings — ascend- 
ing wings.  These  upward  wings  bore  the  notes  of  triumph. 
They  rose  as  it  were  into  the  sun.  They  were  not  soft  and 
tender,  they  were  loud  and  fierce. 

And  what  did  the  two  foresters  do  on  Sunday?  Nature 
sang  to  them,  and  a  quail  preached  to  them  a  sermon  which 
the  son  would  long  be  likely  to  recall. 

They  came  upon  the  little  quail  and  her  brood  of  chicks, 
whose  fluffy,  downy  coverings  were  the  color  of  brown 
leaves. 

The  terrified  bird  gave  a  note  of  warning  to  her  chicks. 
In  a  moment  they  had  disappeared,  all  but  one. 

Victor's  eye  caught  the  hiding-place  of  that  one  chick 
and  he  put  his  hat  over  it. 

"  Let  us  now  go  a  little  way  off  and  listen,"  said 
Audubon. 


VICTOR,   THE  FOREST  BOY  101 

They  sat  down  on  a  clump  of  barberry-bushes,  which 
were  tangled  with  wild-clematis  vines  and  roses. 

All  was  still.  An  hour  passed,  and  all  was  still.  Noon, 
and  all  was  still. 

Then  there  was  heard  a  timid  call. 

One. 

Another  timid  call. 

Two. 

"  She  is  counting  her  chicks,"  said  Audubon. 

Three. 

So  called  the  timid  quail. 

The  chicks  doubtless  answered  her. 

But  one  did  not. 

They  saw  the  hat  move,  but  the  chick  did  not  come  out. 

There  was  a  distressed  call,  repeated  over  and  over. 
Then  it  was  repeated  louder.  Then  louder. 

It  was  so  almost  human  that  Victor  said: 

"  I  will  let  the  little  quail  go." 

He  did  so.  They  listened.  The  mother  quail  did  not 
call  again. 

"  It  is  the  parable  of  the  lost  sheep,"  said  Audubon. 

They  watched  a  spider  cleaning  with  his  feet  an  old 
web.  Then  they  saw  him  weave  his  new  world.  What 
an  instinct  was  that!  Whence  did  it  come? 

They  saw  one  day  a  battle  of  the  ants — as  though  that 
pictured  the  useless  battles  among  men. 

One  day  they  captured  a  venomous  serpent,  and  Audu- 


102  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

bon  painted  its  fangs.  The  reptile  was  the  embodiment  of 
the  fire  of  rage.  But  the  poison  of  the  serpent  was  of  the 
same  kind  as  the  anger  of  an  untrained  nature,  whether  in 
man  or  in  animal. 

The  wild  bees  held  them;  the  serpent  holding  a  bird 
in  thrall;  and  to  them  everywhere  the  world  was  song. 

Victor  Audubon,  the  woods  boy,  saw  the  value  of  what 
his  father  was  doing,  and  he  wondered  if  others  would  ever 
see  it.  He  himself  was  receiving  an  education  such  as  no 
other  boy  ever  had.  It  hurt  him  more  and  more  to  hear 
the  tavern  people  speak  lightly  of  what  his  father  held  to 
be  his  calling. 

In  their  long  journeys  together  amid  the  hills  and 
streams  they  talked  of  little  but  the  discoveries  they  were 
making.  It  filled  a  day  with  delight  to  find  a  new  bird,  to 
hear  him  sing  and  note  his  habits.  The  study  of  a  new 
nest  or  an  egg  would  fill  an  evening  under  the  trees. 

When  they  emerged  from  some  vast  forest  after  long 
wanderings,  they  would  find  newspapers  at  an  inn  which 
would  tell  them  what  had  happened  in  their  absence. 

One  day,  as  they  came  to  a  backwoods  tavern,  and  Au- 
dubon  had  looked  over  the  gazette,  Victor  asked: 

"  Is  the,re  anything  new,  father?  " 

"  Humboldt,  I  see,  has  been  called  to  Prussia  again. 
The  king  sees  what  men  are  of  real  value  to  the  world." 

"  I  wish  that  he  might  know  what  you  are  doing." 

"  Do  not  harbor  thoughts  like  these,  my  boy.     Hum- 


VICTOR,  THE  FOREST  BOY  103 

boldt  did  not  begin  his  travels  with  any  expectation  of  re- 
ward. He  had  to  travel — there  was  an  inborn  power  that 
set  his  feet  in  motion.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  one's 
work  has  worth." 

"  Tell  me  how  he  looked  when  you  saw  him? " 

"  He  was  a  grand  man,  and  he  talked  of  things  which 
the  world  did  not  know.  He  made  me  feel  that  I  must 
be  like  him — that  I  would  like  to  do  the  work  that  he  was 
doing.  On  his  breast  shone  a  star.  I  did  not  covet  the 
star.  Now  the  king  will  place  another  star  there;  he  will 
wear  the  stars  of  Spain,  of  France,  of  Germany.  But,  Vic- 
tor, the  rewards  of  work  are  not  to  be  sought,  but  the 
worth  of  work — that  is  the  gold  of  life." 

Victor  dreamed  of  the  high  career  of  the  many-starred 
Humboldt. 

"  Father  " — did  ever  a  father  have  such  a  son? — "  what- 
ever may  happen,  I  will  be  true  to  you  and  your  work.  If 
the  King  of  Prussia  knew  you  as  I  know  you,  and  your 
work  as  I  know  it,  he  would  send  you  a  star." 

"  Or  perhaps  one  of  his  golden  snuff-boxes,"  said  the 
woodman.  "  I  would  be  glad,  for  your  sake,  to  see  my  work 
honored  by  the  king;  it  would  give  you  joy,  and  you  have 
had  faith  in  me  in  all  my  hardships,  poverty,  and  wander- 
ings. Whether  I  am  rewarded  or  not,  you  will  remember 
me  as  one  who  was  true  to  himself  and  his  work.  That  is 
to  be  rich." 

"  That  is  to  make  oneself  one  day  the  companion  of 


104:  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

kings,"  said  Victor.  "  So  you  have  told  me  the  old  Knitter 
of  Nantes  said,  when  you  were  a  boy  in  France." 

That  evening  they  studied  the  habits  of  a  captive  night- 
bird  together,  of  a  lone  wanderer  in  the  dark.  The  bird 
seized  the  wicker  in  its  bill  and  tried  to  free  its  wings.  A 
tremor  would  come  over  him  when  it  found  itself  baffled. 

"  Why  does  it  shudder  its  wings? "  asked  the  boy. 

"  Why  would  you  shrug  your  shoulders  were  you  a 
captive  among  Indians,  and  thought  of  freedom,  your 
mother,  and  the  fireside  and  lamplight?  It  is  the  human 
in  the  bird." 

A  night  bird  flew  by  and  cried.  The  captive  shuddered 
again.  So  they  studied  the  instincts  of  the  bird,  and  talked, 
long  into  the  night,  of  the  habits  of  the  night  pilgrim  of 
the  air.  These  studies  made  Victor  a  naturalist. 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

AUDUBON    DISCOVERS    THE    GREAT    EAGLE,    THE    BIRD    OF 
WASHINGTON THE    EMBLEM    OF    THE    REPUBLIC 

AUDUBON  trained  his  eye  to  see  in  a  bird  what  he  seemed 
unable  to  discern  in  any  of  the  many  affairs  of  his  life.  He 
was  not  successful  in  business,  but  on  a  trading  voyage  on 
the  Mississippi  he  one  day  saw  a  sight  which  recalled  him 
to  the  fact  that  success  lies  along  the  line  of  one's  inborn 
inclinations. 

It  was  in  February,  1814,  a  month  which  has  all  the 
splendor  of  spring  on  the  Mississippi.  High  in  air  was  float- 
ing a  majestic  bird — sailing  as  it  were  in  a  purple  sea.  It 
was  the  true  American  eagle. 

His  heart  bounded.  He  saw  not  only  a  magnificent 
monarch  of  the  air  in  the  bird,  but  an  emblem  of  inde- 
pendence, of  what  the  American  Republic  was  and  ought 
to  be  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  No  bird  disputed 
his  sway  in  the  kingdom  of  the  air. 

He  was  filled  with  ecstasy  at  the  sight.  He  compares 
his  joy  to  that  of  Herschel  when  he  discovered  the  planet 
that  bears  his  name. 

It  was  this  discovery  that  had  much  influence  in  making 

105 


106  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

the  eagle  the  emblematic  bird  of  America.  We  think  of 
Audubon  when  we  see  the  bird  on  a  shield  that  supports 
the  flag. 

The  sight  made  Audubon  restless  to  secure  one  of  the 
species,  and  to  study  its  plans  and  habits.  This  restlessness 
never  left  him  until  he  had  in  his  possession  the  monarch 
of  birds. 

One  day  on  the  Green  River,  while  collecting  crayfish, 
he  saw  the  eagle  again.  The  place  was  bounded  by  high 
cliffs,  and  he  thought  that  its  nest  was  likely  to  be  there. 

He  hid  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  cliff  where  the  nest 
seemed  likely  to  be,  from  the  carefully  studied  spiral  move- 
ment of  the  bird. 

After  some  time,  there  was  the  sound  of  descending 
wings  in  the  clear  air.  He  heard  a  strange  hissing;  the 
noise  was  that  of  young  eaglets  stretching  out  their  necks 
in  expectation  of  food. 

The  male  bird  descended  with  a  fish  in  his  talons,  evi- 
dently unaware  that  he  was  watched. 

Presently  the  female  followed  him,  also  bearing  a  fish 
for  her  young. 

But  her  keen  suspicions  penetrated  the  shelter  of  the 
rocks  below.  She  saw  by  a  movement  there,  or  a  watch- 
ing eye,  that  the  nest  had  been  discovered. 

She  dropped  her  fish  and  uttered  a  shriek  of  alarm. 

She  soared  upward.  Her  mate  followed  her.  Audu- 
bon was  unable  to  scale  the  cliffs  so  as  to  secure  the  birds 


AUDUBON  DISCOVERS  THE  GREAT  EAGLE  107 

as  specimens.  But  his  soul  was  bent  on  capturing  an 
American  eagle.  He  sought  for  one  for  two  years, 
when  his  watchfulness  was  rewarded.  He  held  in  his 
possession  the  fierce  sovereign  of  the  sky,  the  noblest  of 
its  species. 

What  should  he  name  it?  Washington,  he  thought, 
was  the  truest  of  men,  a  terror  to  the  foes  of  liberty,  and 
his  fame  was  becoming  universal.  "  I  shall  call  the  eagle 
the  Bird  of  Washington/'  he  said. 

When  he  had  made  the  magnificent  bird  known  to  the 
public,  the  Bird  of  Washington  became  by  common  con- 
sent one  of  the  emblems  of  the  great  republic  of  the  West. 
Eagles  had  been  used  as  American  emblems  before  Au- 
dubon,  but  they  had  followed  the  suggestions  of  insignia 
of  Rome  and  France.  Franklin  had  objected  to  the  em- 
blem of  the  common  eagle.  The  white-headed  eagle  of 
Audubon  has  become  the  bird  of  the  shield,  although  it 
had  been  before  made  an  emblem,  and  the  common  eagle 
had  become  the  bird  of  the  banners.  Audubon's  eagle, 
or  the  Bird  of  Washington,  seems  to  be  the  most  noble  of 
the  earn  family  in  its  national  suggestions. 

Audubon  trained  Victor  to  help  him  do  his  work  in 
his  own  perfect  way. 

They  painted  together  as  one  soul. 

At  last  they  had  a  portfolio  of  birds  or  bird  pictures 
which  was  Audubon's  life,  and  which  Victor  valued  as 
highly  as  his  father. 


108  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  You  must  hide  them  somewhere,  father,  where  they 
will  be  safe;  a  crown  were  less  to  be  guarded." 

"  Yes,  I  have  given  my  all  to  do  this  work,  and  your 
heart  has  been  as  true  as  your  feet  have  been." 

"  But  I  have  been  happy  in  the  forests  with  you!  " 

"  I  doubt  that  we  will  ever  see  happier  days.  If  we 
were  to  have  the  favor  of  kings  and  courts,  would  we  be 
happier? " 


CHAPTEE  XIV 

THE    DARK    BOOM AUDTJBON    AND    THE    RATS 

"  I  DO  not  work  for  fame/'  said  Audubon,  "  but  for  the 
work's  sake,  because  I  love  nature,  and  as  Victor  has  said, 
I  must  carefully  hide  my  plates." 

It  had  cost  him  days  of  perilous  travel  to  picture  the 
habits  of  a  single  bird.  In  these  arduous  undertakings  he 
had  slept  in  swamps  and  lived  on  berries.  He  had  exposed 
himself  to  fevers,  and  suffered  from  sickness  without  care. 
He  had  plodded  through  malarial  heats,  and  sought  shelter 
in  caves  from  winter  storms.  And  these  forest  roamings 
were  not  for  fame  nor  money,  but  for  the  love  of  nature, 
which  was  the  supreme  passion  of  his  soul. 

His  pictures  were  retouched  and  improved  continually. 
Go  and  examine  them  as  they  appear  now  in  his  famous 
volume.  The  birds  live  in  their  most  winsome  or  heroic 
attitudes.  The  flowers  and  shrubs  that  they  loved  flame 
around  them.  The  true  touch  is  in  every  plate;  the  bird- 
haunted  forest  of  the  early  days,  like  Birnam's  Wood, 
comes  back  again. 

He  retouched  a  large  number  of  plates  which  to  him 

were  his  life  treasures.    He  was  about  to  make  another  ex- 

109 


HO  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

pedition  along  the  great  rivers  of  the  Middle  States.  What 
should  be  done  with  these  drawings  and  colorings?  Where 
should  he  hide  them  where  they  would  be  perfectly  secure? 
for  he  felt  that  his  future  was  in  them.  He  must  do  as 
Victor  had  said. 

He  visited  Philadelphia  with  the  plates,  and  there  found 
a  solitary  room  where  he  thought  they  would  be  secure. 
He  rented  the  room. 

"  No  one  must  use  the  room  until  I  return/'  said  he 
to  his  host.  "  These  plates  are  not  only  my  fortune,  they 
are  my  life.  They  have  cost  me  the  labor  of  years." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  mine  host.  "  Under  no  cir- 
cumstances shall  the  room  be  used.  Your  work  shall  be 
guarded  like  the  jewels  of  a  queen." 

"  Do  not  let  even  the  cat  enter  the  place." 

"  No,  my  friend,  these  plates  which  are  sacred  to  you 
shall  be  my  trust.  Not  even  the  cat  shall  visit  the  room." 

"  Let  me  adjust  the  Venetian  blinds  so  as  to  guard 
against  the  sun.  The  light  of  a  room  sometimes  affects  the 
color  of  pictures." 

He  adjusted  the  blinds  so  as  to  shut  out  the  sun. 

Then  he  locked  the  room;  he  left  it  in  darkness,  and 
he  turned  reluctantly  away  from  these  gems  of  art  that 
had  cost  him  so  much  suffering  and  toil — ay,  and  so 
much  joy. 

He  went  away,  roamed  the  river-side  forests,  seeking 
new  birds  and  making  new  drawings.  But  his  thoughts 


THE  DARK  ROOM 

wandered  back  to  his  treasures  in  the  dark  room  in  Phila- 
delphia. 

He  returned  at  last  with  rapid  feet.  He  longed  to  be 
among  his  art  treasures  again,  to  retouch  them  out  of  wider 
experience,  and  to  add  to  their  number. 

He  came  back  to  his  friend's  home  where  he  had  left 
the  darkened  room,  loaded  with  specimens. 

"Are  the  pictures  safe?"  was  almost  his  first  inquiry. 

"  Safe,  safe !  You  may  be  sure  they  are.  Not  even 
the  cat  has  entered  the  room.  Go  up  to  the  chamber 
and  see." 

He  ascended  the  stairs,  accompanied  by  his  friend,  un- 
locked the  door,  lifted  the  Venetian  blind,  and  glanced 
around. 

He  trembled,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  horror. 

"Eats!  What  have  they  done?  Oh,  the  light  of  my 
life  has  gone  out.  Look,  look,  my  precious  plates!  The 
rats  have  made  heaps  of  them.  Years  of  toil  would  not 
replace  them.  My  heart  sinks  within  me.  God  give  me 
health,  I  will  recover  them.  I  will  make  them  better  than 
before!" 

He  gathered  up  the  remains  of  his  pictures,  feeling 
like  Newton  when  the  little  dog  Diamond  destroyed  his 
astronomical  calculations.  He  wandered  about  as  one 
dazed. 

Everybody  was  sorry  at  heart  for  him.  He  felt  keenly 
all  this  sympathy,  and  said: 


112  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  But  I  will  recover  them,  and  do  better  work  than 
before.  It  will  take  three  years.  The  cat  did  not  enter 
that  room — would  that  she  had !  " 

So  he  must  face  the  forest  sun  again  and  go  over  the 
old  trails  and  live  like  a  wild  man.  He  was  doing  work  for 
the  sake  of  the  work. 

"  The  rats  have  limited  reason,"  he  must  have  thought. 
"  Misfortune  should  not  arrest  any  man  in  a  purpose  to  do 
his  best." 

He  would  be  more  careful  of  his  art  treasures  now — he 
would  place  them  where  it  would  be  well-nigh  impossible 
for  accidents  to  befall  them.  He  would  become  stronger 
for  his  work  than  ever  before. 

But  Victor — what  would  he  feel,  what  would  he  say? 

The  news  of  the  loss  of  the  plates  smote  Victor  to  the 
heart. 

His  father  had  lost  his  property,  was  ridiculed  at  the 
taverns,  but  he  had  not  lost  his  character,  or  his  purpose 
in  life.  The  boy  met  his  disappointment  with  his  mother's 
heart  and  spirit. 

"Victor,  am  I  ruined?"  asked  Audubon.     "Am  I?" 

"  No,  father,  you  must  go  over  all  the  work  again ; 
you  will  do  it  better  for  your  loss.  I  will  go  again  into 
the  forests  with  you,  or  I  will  become  a  clerk  to  help  you. 
Your  new  journeys  will  educate  me;  they  will  make  me  a 
naturalist." 

"  Did  ever  a  father  have  such  a  son  ?  " 


CHAPTEK  XV 

ALEXANDER    WILSON,    THE    AMERICAN 

HIS    PARROT 

THIS  man,  whom  we  have  introduced  among  the  earlier 
incidents  of  Audubon's  life,  has  had  many  tributes  paid  to 
him  by  lovers  of  natural  history  and  pilgrim  poets.  A 
statue  has  been  raised  to  him  in  his  "  ain  toun,"  and  his 
grave,  in  the  "  auld  kirkyard  "  of  the  Swedish  Church  in 
Philadelphia,  is  still  visited  by  lovers  of  nature.  His  was 
a  beautiful,  self-forgetful  life,  and  it  was  one  that 
Audubon,  possibly  with  some  little  jealousy,  closely  fol- 
lowed. 

Of  Wilson's  inspiration  to  become  a  naturalist,  a  writer 
has  well  said :  "  There  lives  in  Scotland  a  man  of  peace. 
A  poor  Paisley  weaver,  in  his  damp,  dull  lodging,  he 
dreamed  of  nature,  of  the  infinite  liberty  of  the  woods, 
and  of  winged  life.  A  cripple,  his  very  bondage  inspired 
him  with  a  love  of  light  and  flight." 

Wilson,  like  Audubon,  loved  birds  for  their  own  sake. 

He  was  a  cripple  in  early  life,  and  he  could  not  see 
many  birds,  so  he  bought  pictures  of  them.  His  pictures 

made  him  long  to  follow  them  into  the  forest  solitudes  in 
8  113 


114:  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

many  lands.  Poor,  a  cripple,  a  factory  boy,  a  poet,  his 
heart  went  forth  into  nature — would  his  feet  follow  it? 

Says  an  essayist  of  the  impulse  that  suddenly  took  pos- 
session of  his  soul: 

"  He  took  a  decisive  resolution ;  it  was  to  abandon 
everything,  his  trade,  his  country;  to  go  where  he  might 
see  nature  with  his  own  eyes,  observe,  describe,  and  paint; 
to  exile  himself  in  the  solitudes  of  America;  to  shipwreck 
life,  that  he  might  become  a  Robinson  Crusoe." 

But  he  did  not  know  how  to  draw  and  paint;  he  did 
not  know  how  to  write.  He  could  make  rhymes,  but  he 
could  not  put  them  on  paper. 

What  of  that?  He  could  learn  how  to  draw,  to  paint 
and  write,  and  resolved  to  do  it.  He  can  who  thinks  he 
can.  Truth  lies  in  the  intuition,  and  in  potency  that  has 
no  chart. 

He  found  his  way  to  America  and  plunged  into  the 
deep  forests  and  miasmatic  savannas.  He  lived  on  wild 
fruits  and  slept  in  the  coverts  of  bears. 

To  meet  a  wild  bird  and  a  rare  one  was  to  him  the 
charm  of  his  life.  He  was  free.  He  had  no  house  or 
family  to  call  him  away  from  his  mission.  To  injure  a 
bird  was  to  injure  him.  To  wound  a  bird  was  to  hurt  his 
heart.  It  is  said  that  his  face  grew  to  look  like  a  bird.  He 
became  a  bird  man.  He,  like  Audubon,  did  much  of  his 
work  so  that  it  will  never  need  to  be  done  again. 

"When  he  reached  America  the  first  thing  that  he  wished 


THE  AMERICAN  "ROBINSON  CRUSOE"  H5 

to  see  was  a  "  red-headed  woodpecker."  Then  he  fell  in 
love  with  the  bluebird,  and  wrote  of  it  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  poems  in  the  language. 

He  had  one  companion — a  parrot.  It  was  a  Carolina 
bird,  and  did  not  learn  to  talk  after  the  manner  of  South 
American  birds,  but  it  traveled  with  him  a  thousand  miles. 
He  used  to  wrap  her  up  in  his  handkerchief,  and  carry  her 
about  in  his  pocket,  and  if  she  made  her  escape  he  would 
turn  aside  to  find  her  again.  They  loved  and  quarreled, 
and  she  would  sit  on  his  shoulder  and  eat  from  his  mouth. 
Her  health  was  broken  at  last,  and  she  became  a  discon- 
solate-looking bird.  He  put  a  mirror  beside  her;  she 
thought  that  her  reflection  was  another  bird,  and  she  be- 
came happy.  She  would  lay  her  head  against  her  own 
reflection  with  joy.  Alas,  how  like  human  life,  when  we 
fancy  that  we  find  ourselves  in  others,  or  in  others  a  reflec- 
tion of  ourselves!  She  was  the  man  Friday. 

He  stood  at  last  before  the  great  naturalists  of  Europe. 
"  They  poked  each  other  in  the  ribs  "  when  they  beheld 
him,  but  he  shamed  their  ignorance  by  his  simple  knowl- 
edge of  things  that  he  perfectly  but  they  imperfectly  knew. 

We  make  mention  of  this  friend  of  Audubon  for  a 
reason  that  should  inspire  naturalists  in  their  methods  of 
work.  He  never  destroyed  life  if  he  could  help  it.  He 
studied  living  specimens,  and  when  he  could  set  them  free 
he  gave  them  again  to  the  fields,  air,  and  sky. 

He  captured  a  little  mouse,  and  he  was  about  to  kill  it 


116  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

to  put  it  into  the  claw  of  an  owl  which  he  had  painted,  or 
was  preparing  to  paint.  The  heart  of  the  little  captive 
beat  hard.  He  was  thirsty  in  his  fever  of  terror.  A  drop 
of  water  was  on  the  table,  and  he  ran  out  his  wee  tongue 
to  cool  the  burning  thirst.  Wilson  saw  that  little  tongue. 
The  sight  went  to  his  heart.  He  stayed  his  hand.  Could 
he  quench  a  life  that  was  so  like  the  human? 


CHAPTEK  XVI 

FLORIDA     AS     IT     WAS 

AUDUBOX  entered  Florida  as  if  it  were  a  land  of  en- 
chantment. The  palmy  peninsula,  which  was  created  as  one 
might  almost  say  by  neither  the  Divinity  nor  man,  but  by 
the  coral  insects,  has  ever  been  a  land  of  enchantment,  but 
always  most  beautiful  in  the  winter  months.  To  exist  in 
these  balmy  airs  of  Florida  in  winter  is  to  enjoy  life  in 
luxurious  fulness. 

In  the  woodlands  the  gray  mosses  wave  in  the  mellow 
gulf  winds,  the  jasmines  and  the  wild  orange  fill  the  air 
with  odor,  and  the  pine  barrens  are  melodious  with  mock- 
ing-birds' songs. 

In  Audubon's  time  the  rivers  were  full  of  alligators, 
and  the  white  ibises  streamed  through  the  air  at  this 
period  of  solitude.  The  Seminole  Indian  roamed  there 
at  will.  The  woods  were  full  of  rare  birds  and  of 
game. 

Audubon  was  now  at  the  height  of  his  great  popularity. 
The  Government  was  glad  to  do  him  honor,  and  to  make 
easy  his  researches.  States  welcomed  him  as  a  benefactor. 

The  heart  of  the  country  went  with  him  into  the  ham- 

117 


118  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

mocks,  pine  barrens,  and  everglades  of  Florida,  the  secrets 
of  which  he  was  to  reveal  to  the  world. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1831,  some  seventy  or  more 
years  ago.  He  went  to  East  Florida  first,  and  wandered 
over  its  shining  beaches  and  gathered  specimens  and  ex- 
amined them  under  the  shadows  of  the  palms.  The  bushes 
were  full  of  song,  and  the  pines  were  fire. 

One  of  the  first  wonders  of  the  bird  world  to  attract 
him  was  the  Zenaida  dove,  which  came  from  the  West  India 
Islands,  winging  its  way  close  to  the  purple  waters  at  cer- 
tain seasons  of  the  year.  It  is  noted  for  its  beauty  of  plu- 
mage, its  melodious  and  plaintive  voice,  and  its  affection 
for  its  mate.  It  is  a  vision  of  beauty  on  the  wing,  and  its 
habits  are  as  charming  as  its  breast,  neck,  and  wings. 

Florida  was  filled  with  doves  at  this  time.  They  floated 
on  iridescent  wings  among  the  mosses.  Audubon,  who  was 
always  a  protector  of  birds,  was  taught  new  lessons  of  ten- 
derness by  the  doves  of  Florida. 

"  Who,"  he  said,  "  can  approach  a  setting  dove,  hear 
her  notes  of  remonstrance,  or  feel  the  feeble  stroke  of  her 
wings,  without  being  convicted  that  he  is  committing  a 
wrong  act  ? " 

Audubon  relates  his  sensations  on  trying  to  capture  a 
Zenaida  dove  alive. 

He  approached  the  nest  with  still  feet.  The  mother 
bird  discovered  him,  and  maintained  her  place,  brooding 
over  her  young  until  she  saw  that  she  was  in  danger,  and 


FLORIDA  AS  IT  WAS  119 

then  uttered  a  childlike  cry.  She  fell  before  him  with 
quivering  wings,  her  whole  form  trembling,  and  her  voice 
begging  him  to  spare  her  nest. 

He  said: 

"  Who  could  bear  such  a  scene  of  despair?  I  left  the 
mother  in  security  with  her  offspring." 

He  went  to  the  solitudes  of  the  snowy  ibis  and  heron, 
the  red  flamingo  and  the  dusky  pelican.  He  found  at 
Tampa  the  resplendent  Key  West  pigeon. 

"  Ah !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  naturalist's  enthusiasm  at 
that  lovely  bird,  "  did  ever  Egyptian  pharmacopolist  em- 
ploy more  care  in  embalming  the  most  illustrious  of  the 
Pharaohs  than  I  did  in  preserving  from  injury  the  most 
beautiful  inhabitant  of  the  wood  covers!  " 

Age  had  not  abated  the  tenderness  of  Audubon's  heart 
toward  the  winged  dwellers  of  the  trees.  It  is  always  so 
with  a  true  lover  of  nature.  To  study  nature  is  to  find 
oneself  in  sympathy  with  the  whole  creation,  and  the  larger 
one's  knowledge  the  greater  is  his  beneficence.  A  less 
schooled  nature  would  have  seized  upon  the  zenaida  dove, 
although  she  were  quivering  at  the  thought  of  being  taken 
from  her  young. 

In  Florida  he  saw  a  caracara  eagle,  the  Brazilian  bird. 
He  pursued  it  in  vain  for  a  time,  but  at  last  one  of  these 
proud  Andean  birds  fell  into  his  hands. 

It  hurt  him  to  take  the  life  of  this  regal  inhabitant  of 
the  peaks,  and  his  description  of  how  he  endeavored  to  do 


120  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

this  without  causing  the  bird  pain  shows  the  growing  ten- 
derness of  his  nature  toward  the  winged  world: 

"  The  eagle,"  he  tells  us,  "  was  immediately  conveyed 
to  my  place  of  residence,  covered  by  a  blanket,  to  save  him 
in  his  adversity  from  the  gaze  of  the  people.  I  placed  the 
cage  so  as  to  afford  me  a  good  view  of  the  captive,  and  I 
must  acknowledge  that  as  I  watched  his  looks  of  proud  dis- 
dain I  did  not  feel  toward  him  so  generously  as  I  ought  to 
have  done.  At  times  I  was  half  inclined  to  restore  him  to 
his  freedom,  that  he  might  return  to  his  native  mountains; 
nay,  I  several  times  thought  how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  see 
him  spread  out  his  broad  wings  and  sail  away  toward  the 
rocks  of  his  wild  haunts;  but  then  some  one  seemed  to 
whisper  that  I  ought  to  take  the  portrait  of  this  magnificent 
bird,  and  I  abandoned  the  more  generous  design  of  setting 
him  at  liberty,  for  the  express  purpose  of  showing  you  his 
semblance. 

"  I  occupied  myself  a  whole  day  in  watching  his  move- 
ments; on  the  next  day  I  came  to  a  determination  as  to 
the  position  in  which  I  might  best  represent  him;  and,  on 
the  third,  thought  of  how  I  could  take  away  his  life  with 
the  least  pain  to  him.  I  consulted  several  persons  on  the 
subject,  and  among  others  my  most  worthy  and  generous 
friend  Dr.  George  Parkman,  who  kindly  visited  my  family 
every  day.  He  spoke  of  suffocating  him  by  means  of  burn- 
ing charcoal,  of  killing  him  by  electricity,  etc.,  and  we 
both  concluded  that  the  first  method  would  be  probably  the 


FLORIDA  AS  IT  WAS  121 

easiest  for  ourselves  and  the  least  painful  to  him.  Accord- 
ingly, the  bird  was  removed  in  his  prison  to  a  very  small 
room  and  closely  covered  with  blankets,  a  pan  of  lighted 
charcoal  was  introduced,  the  windows  and  doors  fastened, 
and  the  blankets  tucked  in  beneath  the  cage.  I  waited,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  to  hear  him  fall  down  from  his 
perch;  but,  after  listening  for  hours,  I  opened  the  door, 
raised  the  blankets,  and  peeped  under  them  amid  a  mass 
of  suffocating  fumes. 

"  There  stood  the  eagle  on  his  perch,  with  his  bright, 
unflinching  eye  turned  toward  me,  and  as  lively  and  vig- 
*orous  as  ever!  Instantly  reclosing  every  aperture,  I  re- 
sumed my  station  at  the  door,  and  toward  midnight,  not 
having  heard  the  least  noise,  I  again  took  a  peep  at  my 
victim.  He  was  still  uninjured,  although  the  air  of  the 
closet  was  insupportable  to  my  son  and  myself,  and  that 
of  the  adjoining  apartment  began  to  feel  unpleasant. 

"  I  persevered,  however,  or  ten  hours  in  all,  when, 
finding  that  the  charcoal  fumes  would  not  produce  the 
desired  effect,  I  retired  to  rest,  wearied  and  disappointed. 
Early  next  morning  I  tried  the  charcoal  anew,  adding  to 
it  a  quantity  of  sulphur,  but  we  were  nearly  driven  from 
our  house  in  a  few  hours  by  the  stifling  vapors,  while  the 
noble  bird  continued  to  stand  erect  and  look  defiance  at  us 
whenever  we  approached  his  post  of  martyrdom.  His  fierce 
demeanor  precluded  all  external  application,  and  at  last  I 
was  compelled  to  resort  to  a  method,  always  used  as  a  last 


122  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

expedient,  and  a  most  effectual  one.  I  thrust  a  long 
pointed  piece  of  steel  through  his  heart,  when  my  proud 
prisoner  instantly  fell  dead,  without  even  ruffling  a 
feather. 

"  I  sat  up  nearly  the  whole  of  another  night  to  outline 
him,  and  worked  so  constantly  at  the  drawing  that  it  nearly 
cost  me  my  life.  I  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  spasmodic 
affection  that  much  alarmed  my  family,  and  completely 
prostrated  me  for  some  days." 


CHAPTEE  XVII 

THE    SICK    BOY WAGON    TALES 

ONE  day  there  came  a  hasty  messenger  to  Mrs.  Audu- 
bon  in  Louisiana  bearing  a  letter  marked  "  In  haste."  She 
broke  the  seal  and  read: 

"  Victor  is  very  sick  of  the  fever;  he  lies  in  the  wagon 
at  Beechwood  under  the  trees.  He  calls  for  you  con- 
stantly— '  Mother,  mother! '  " 

"  I  must  go  to  him,"  said  Mrs.  Audubon. 

"  The  journey  is  a  long  one  and  will  be  hard,"  said 
her  friends. 

"  But  I  can  not  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Audubon.  "  Did  ever 
a  woman  hesitate  at  the  call  of  t  mother '  ? " 

"  He  may  have  the  yellow  fever,"  said  an  alarmed 
servant.  "  The  country  is  full  of  it  this  fall." 

"  That  does  not  matter;  I  must  go  to  him.  He  calls 
<  mother  '  !  " 

It  was  early  autumn — the  still,  dry  time  of  the  year. 
The  river  towns  were  almost  deserted  on  account  of  the 
fever.  The  intense  heat  of  the  summer  continued;  the 
roads  were  dusty,  and  the  stage-drivers  rode  with  fear  past 

the  great  plantations  on  account  of  the  sickness. 

123 


12  i  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Mrs.  Audubon  made  little  preparation.  She  called  a 
driver  and  faced  the  wilderness.  She  heard  the  call  of 
"  Mother,  mother!  " 

She  traveled  night  and  day.  Food,  sleep,  and  comforts 
were  nothing  to  her  now.  She  said  to  the  drivers,  "  Hurry, 
hurry!" 

In  the  glimmering  dusk  of  a  silent  twilight  she  reached 
Beechwood.  She  dropped  from  the  carriage  and  was  met 
by  her  husband. 

"  So  soon,  Lucy?  "  said  Audubon.  "  What  brought  you 
here  in  such  quick  time  ?  " 

"  A  mother's  heart.    How  is  Victor?  " 

"  Come  and  see — still." 

The  boy  lay  outside  of  a  forest  home  in  a  traveling 
wagon  under  the  trees. 

"  It  is  better  for  him  to  be  in  the  air,"  whispered  Au- 
dubon. "  I  hope  he  may  know  you.  Do  not  speak  at 
first.  He  is  in  a  stupor.  It  is  a  critical  hour." 

There  was  a  deep  stillness  in  the  red  forests.  A  few 
black  ravens  flew  up  into  the  twilight-flaming  tree  tops.  A 
dog  barked,  and  was  hushed. 

Victor  lay  as  one  dead,  his  white  forehead  burning 
with  fever,  his  neck  open,  his  hair  tangled. 

Mrs.  Audubon  laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead  and  put 
back  his  hair. 

He  moved,  but  he  did  not  open  his  eyes.  His  lips 
parted. 


THE  SICK  BOY  125 

"  It  is  mother's  hand !  "  he  said. 

He  began  to  revive.     His  eyes  opened,  and  he  said: 

"  I  knew  it  was  your  hand.     I  am  coming  back." 

Mrs.  Audubon  looked  up  to  the  sky  where  a  star  was 
shining,  and  she  breathed  a  prayer  and  a  thanksgiving.  It 
was  a  happy  hour. 

The  doctor  came  on  horseback  and  looked  at  the  boy. 

"  The  fever  has  turned,"  he  said.  "  While  the  sky  is 
clear,  let  him  lie  here  under  the  trees." 

In  the  night  the  fever  abated.  She  brought  him 
water  from  the  spring  near,  and  he  repeated  over  and 
over: 

"  O  mother,  I  am  so  glad  that  you  have  come !  " 

There  was  a  light  dew  that  night,  but  the  sun  rose  the 
next  morning  in  a  clear  sky,  and  the  atmosphere  seemed 
burning.  The  beech-woods  spread  out  their  great  arms 
over  the  wagon,  and  the  forest  birds  gathered  in  the  thick, 
cool  shade. 

As  soon  as  Victor  was  out  of  danger  Audubon's 
thoughts  turned  to  the  birds  again,  and  he  began  to  talk 
with  the  convalescent  about  them.  He  pointed  to  the  pine 
bowers  that  rose  dark  in  the  hot  air,  and  said: 

"  There,  through  the  clear,  rarefied  atmosphere,  the 
raven  spreads  his  wings,  and  as  he  onward  sails  rises  higher 
and  higher  each  bold  sweep  that  he  makes,  as  if  conscious 
that  the  nearer  he  approaches  the  sun  the  more  glistening 
will  become  the  tints  of  his  plumage. 


126  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  Some  say  that  they  destroy  the  raven  because  he  is 
black,  others  because  his  croaking  is  unpleasant.  As  for 
me,  I  admire  the  raven  because  I  see  so  much  in  him  to 
excite  our  wonder." 

Hour  by  hour  Mrs.  Audubon  stood  over  Victor. 

One  morning  he  sat  up,  and  the  doctor  pronounced 
him  "  out  of  danger,  with  care." 

He  took  him  to  the  veranda.  A  few  drops  of  rain 
were  falling,  cooling  the  air. 

"  Mother/'  said  Victor,  "  you  have  been  true  to  your 
own.  I  can  see  my  life  now — I  must  learn  to  paint,  that 
I  may  continue  father's  work  in  the  future.  I  have  been 
brought  back  for  this  purpose;  I  will  make  my  forest  life 
an  education,  and  we  will  be  true  to  each  other  and  to 
what  we  have  been  given  to  do." 

He  called  for  stories,  and  his  father  told  them  under 
the  cooling  trees  that  leaned  over  the  roof  of  the  forest 
house. 

LISTENING  TO  THE  TREE 

Among  the  many  stories  that  Audubon  used  to  relate 
of  the  insect-destroying  birds  is  one  that  Victor  loved  to 
hear.  It  well  illustrates  his  habits  of  observation. 

He  had  been  told  at  Louisville,  Ky.,  that  there  was  a  cer- 
tain large  tree  like  a  chimney  in  which  a  cloud  of  swallows 
spent  the  night.  He  determined  to  listen  to  this  tree  when 
the  swallows  came  home. 


THE  SICK  BOY  127 

"  The  evening,"  he  says,  "  was  beautiful;  thousands  of 
swallows  were  flying  above  me,  and  by  threes  and  fours 
were  pitching  into  the  hole  in  the  tree  like  bees  hurrying 
to  their  hives.  I  remained,  my  head  leaning  on  the  tree, 
listening  to  the  roaring  noise  within. 

"  Next  morning  I  rose  early  and  placed  my  head  against 
the  tree.  I  stood  in  this  posture  some  twenty  minutes, 
when  suddenly  I  thought  that  the  great  tree  was  giving 
way.  I  sprang  from  it.  The  swallows  were  pouring  out 
of  it  in  a  black,  continual  stream.  I  listened  with  amaze- 
ment to  the  noise  within,  which  I  could  compare  to  noth- 
ing but  the  sound  of  a  large  wheel  revolving  under  a 
powerful  stream." 

He  estimated  the  number  of  birds  who  roosted  in  this 
chimney  tree,  clinging  to  the  hollow  in  an  unbroken  mass, 
to  be  nine  thousand! 

He  related  the  stories  that  revealed  to  Victor  the  true 
methods  of  studying  nature.  He  made  of  the  lonely  beech- 
woods  a  school.  Those  were  happy  weeks  that  the  three 
united  hearts  spent  in  the  woods. 

"  We  must  give  something  to  find  something,"  said  Mrs. 
Audubon ;  "  we  must  go  into  silence,  if  we  would  have 
something  to  say.  We  must  do  right,  follow  the  voice  of  our 
gifts,  and  then  believe  that  all  that  happens  to  us  is  for 
our  best  good." 

Audubon  was  a  natural  story-teller.  To  hear  him  tell 
tales  was  to  live  in  the  scenes  again.  We  can  picture  him 


128  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

relating  his  old  experiences  to  the  sick  boy  as  he  lay  in  the 
wagon. 

There  was  a  mocking-bird  in  New  Orleans  that  used  to 
sing  on  the  same  chimney-top  night  after  night  until 
twelve  o'clock,  when  it  would  go  to  the  Convent  Gardens 
to  feast.  Its  song  would  ripple  on  the  air  as  caught  from 
some  paradise,  until  the  watchman  would  pass  by,  saying: 

"All  is  well!" 

The  bird  on  the  chimney,  too,  would  pause  in  its  singing, 
and,  as  if  speaking  to  the  household,  would  say: 

"  All  is  well!  "  and  then  continue  its  rapturous  melody. - 

To  Audubon  such  a  voice  came  out  of  the  life  of 
divine  mysteries.  He  listened  to  bird  songs  with  a  double 
ear.  In  his  darkest  hours  he  could  hear  this  voice,  "  All  is 
well!  " 

His  dogs  seemed  to  understand  him,  to  follow  his  very 
thought. 

He  tells  a  story  of  a  tremulous  dog  that  lay  by  his  side 
in  an  hour  of  terror. 

This  story  was  a  favorite  in  the  woods.  It  so  pictures 
the  naturalist's  life  in  the  deep  Indian  forest  that  we  should 
relate  it  here.  We  follow  Audubon's  own  language  in 
part,  changing  a  few  words  for  the  sake  of  a  free,  inter- 
pretative narrative. 


THE  SICK  BOY  129 

THE  CABIN  IN  THE  FOREST 

He  says,  to  use  his  own  beautiful  descriptions,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  narrative: 

"  On  my  return  from  the  upper  Mississippi  I  found  my- 
self obliged  to  cross  one  of  the  wide  prairies  which,  in 
that  portion  of  the  United  States,  vary  the  appearance 
of  the  country.  The  weather  was -fine;  all  around  me  was 
as  fresh  and  blooming  as  if  it  had  just  been  issued  from 
the  bosom  of  nature.  My  knapsack,  my  gun,  and  my  dog 
were  all  I  had  for  baggage  and  company.  But,  although 
well  moccasined,  I  moved  slowly  along,  attracted  by  the 
brilliancy  of  the  flowers,  and  the  gambols  of  the  fawns 
around  their  dams,  to  all  appearance  as  thoughtless  of 
danger  as  I  felt  myself. 

"  My  march  was  of  long  duration.  I  saw  the  sun  sink- 
ing beneath  the  horizon  long  before  I  could  perceive  any 
appearance  of  woodlands,  and  nothing  in  the  shape  of  man 
had  I  met  with  that  day.  The  track  which  I  followed  was 
only  an  old  Indian  trail,  and  as  darkness  overshadowed  the 
prairie  I  felt  some  desire  to  reach  at  least  a  copse,  in  which 
I  might  lie  down  to  rest.  The  night-hawks  were  skimming 
over  and  around  me,  attracted  by  the  buzzing  wings  of  the 
beetles  which  form  their  food,  and  the  distant  howling  of 
the  wolves  gave  me  hope  that  I  should  soon  arrive  at  the 
skirts  of  some  woodland. 

"  I  did  so,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant  a  firelight 
9 


130  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

attracted  my  eye.  I  moved  toward  it,  full  of  confidence 
that  it  proceeded  from  the  camp  of  some  wandering  In- 
dians. I  was  mistaken.  I  discovered  by  its  glare  that  it 
was  from  the  hearth  of  a  small  log  cabin,  and  that  a  tall 
figure  passed  and  repassed  between  it  and  me,  as  if  busily 
engaged  in  household  arrangements. 

"  I  reached  the  spot,  and  presenting  myself  at  the  door, 
asked  the  tall  figure,  which  proved  to  be  a  woman,  if  I 
might  take  shelter  under  her  roof  for  the  night?  Her 
voice  was  gruff,  and  her  dress  negligently  thrown  about 
her.  She  answered  in  the  affirmative.  I  walked  in,  took  a 
wooden  stool,  and  quietly  seated  myself  by  the  fire.  The 
next  object  that  attracted  my  notice  was  a  finely  formed 
young  Indian,  resting  his  head  between  his  hands,  with  his 
elbows  on  his  knees.  A  long  bow  rested  against  the  log 
wall  near  him,  while  a  quantity  of  arrows  and  two  or  three 
raccoon  skins  lay  at  his  feet.  He  moved  not;  he  apparently 
breathed  not.  Accustomed  to  the  habits  of  the  Indians, 
and  knowing  that  they  pay  little  attention  to  the  approach 
of  civilized  strangers,  I  addressed  him  in  French,  a  lan- 
guage not  infrequently  partially  known  to  the  people  of 
that  neighborhood.  He  raised  his  head,  pointed  to  one  of 
his  eyes  with  his  finger,  and  gave  me  a  significant  glance 
with  the  other;  his  face  was  covered  with  blood. 

"  The  fact  was,  that  an  hour  before  this,  as  he  was  in 
the  act  of  discharging  an  arrow  at  a  raccoon  in  the  top  of 
a  tree,  the  arrow  had  split  upon  the  cord,  and  sprung  back 


THE  SICK  BOY  131 

with  such  violence  into  his  right  eye  as  to  destroy  it 
forever. 

"  Feeling  hungry,  I  inquired  what  sort  of  fare  I  might 
expect.  Such  a  thing  as  a  bed  was  not  to  be  seen,  but 
many  large  untanned  bear  and  buffalo  hides  lay  piled  in 
a  corner.  I  drew  a  timepiece  from  my  pocket  and  told 
the  woman  that  it  was  late  and  that  I  was  fatigued.  She 
espied  my  watch,  the  richness  of  which  seemed  to  operate 
on  her  feelings  with  electric  quickness.  She  told  me  there 
was  plenty  of  venison  and  jerked  buffalo  meat,  and  that 
on  removing  the  ashes  I  should  find  a  cake.  But  my  watch 
had  struck  her  fancy,  and  her  curiosity  had  to  be  gratified 
by  an  immediate  sight  of  it.  I  took  off  the  gold  chain, 
which  secured  it  around  my  neck,  and  presented  it  to  her. 
She  was  all  ecstasy,  spoke  of  its  beauty,  asked  me  its  value, 
and  put  the  chain  around  her  brawny  neck,  saying  how 
happy  the  possession  of  such  a  watch  would  make  her. 
Thoughtless,  and,  as  I  fancied  myself,  in  so  retired  a  spot, 
secure,  I  paid  little  attention  to  her  talk  or  her  move- 
ments. I  helped  my  dog  to  a  good  supper  of  venison,  and 
was  not  long  in  satisfying  the  demands  of  my  own  appetite. 

"  The  Indian  rose  from  his  seat  as  if  in  extreme  suffer- 
ing. He  passed  and  repassed  me  several  times,  and  once 
pinched  me  on  the  side  so  violently  that  the  pain  nearly 
brought  forth  an  exclamation  of  anger.  I  looked  at  him,  his 
eye  met  mine,  but  his  look  was  so  forbidding  that  it  struck 
a  chill  into  the  more  nervous  part  of  my  system.  He  again 


132  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

seated  himself,  drew  his  butcher-knife  from  its  greasy  scab- 
bard, examined  its  edge  as  I  would  do  that  of  a  razor  sus- 
pected dull,  replaced  it,  and  again  taking  his  tomahawk 
from  his  back,  filled  the  pipe  of  it  with  tobacco,  and  sent 
me  expressive  glances  whenever  our  hostess  chanced  to  have 
her  back  toward  us. 

"  E^ever  till  that  moment  had  my  senses  been  awakened 
to  the  danger  which  I  now  suspected  to  be  about  me.  I 
returned  glance  for  glance  to  my  companion,  and  rested 
well  assured  that  whatever  enemies  I  might  have  he  was 
not  of  their  number. 

"  I  asked  the  woman  for  my  watch,  wound  it  up,  and 
under  pretense  of  wishing  to  see  how  the  weather  might 
probably  be  on  the  morrow,  took  up  my  gun  and  walked 
out  of  the  cabin.  I  slipped  a  ball  into  each  barrel,  scraped 
the  edges  of  my  flints,  renewed  the  primings,  and,  return- 
ing to  the  hut,  gave  a  favorable  account  of  my  observa- 
tions. I  took  a  few  bear  skins,  made  a  pallet  of  them,  and, 
calling  my  faithful  dog  to  my  side,  lay  down,  with  my  gun 
close  to  my  body,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  to  all  appear- 
ance fast  asleep. 

"  A  short  time  had  elapsed  when  some  voices  were 
heard,  and  from  the  corner  of  my  eyes  I  saw  two  athletic 
youths  making  their  entrance,  bearing  a  dead  stag  on  a 
pole.  They  disposed  of  their  burden,  and,  asking  for 
whisky,  helped  themselves  freely  to  it.  Observing  me  and 
the  wounded  Indian,  they  asked  who  I  was,  and  why  that 


THE  SICK  BOY  133 

rascal  (meaning  the  Indian,  who,  they  knew,  understood 
not  a  word  of  English)  was  in  the  house?  The  mother,  for 
so  she  proved  to  be,  bade  them  speak  less  loudly,  made  men- 
tion of  my  watch,  and  took  them  to  a  corner  where  a  con- 
versation took  place,  the  purport  of  which  it  required  little 
shrewdness  in  me  to  guess.  I  tapped  my  dog  gently;  he 
moved  his  tail,  and  with  indescribable  pleasure  I  saw  his 
fine  eyes  alternately  fixed  on  me  and  raised  toward  the  trio 
in  the  corner.  I  felt  that  he  perceived  danger  in  my  situa- 
tion. The  Indian  exchanged  the  last  glance  with  me." 

An  hour  of  terror  followed.  The  lads  were  sinking 
into  a  drunken  sleep,  when  the  thought  of  stealing  the 
watch  seemed  to  take  possession  of  the  Indian  squaw.  She 
went  to  one  of  the  lads,  and  said  to  him  in  a  voice  that 
Audubon  could  hear: 

"  Settle  him,  and  then  I'll  have  the  watch." 

The  naturalist  cocked  his  gun  locks  silently,  and  then 
touched  his  faithful  dog  on  the  head.  The  two  watched 
the  squaw  with  intent  eyes,  the  dog  bent  on  one  thing  only, 
the  safety  of  his  master. 

In  this  hour  of  suspense  some  travelers  suddenly  ap- 
peared at  the  door.  Audubon  told  them  his  story;  the 
squaw  was  arrested,  and  the  cabin  burned. 

This  story  gives  a  view  of  prairie  life  on  the  Missis- 
sippi at  that  time,  and  also  of  the  perils  that  the  American 
woodman  met  in  his  solitary  journeys  with  his  alert  and 
faithful  dog. 


134  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Let  us  recall  like  stories  amid  these  scenes  under  the 
beech-wood  shadows  at  evening.  Victor  may  have  lain  in 
the  wagon;  his  mother  watched  by  his  side,  and  the  ever- 
faithful  dog  could  listen  to  a  wonder  tale  if  he  could  not 
understand  it.  » 

IN  THE  SWAMPS  OF  THE  YAZOO 

We  have  now  a  very  strange  story  to  tell,  and  it  belongs 
to  a  period  of  American  life  long  passed  away. 

It  was  sultry  noon  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi. 
Afar  lay  the  great,  dark,  almost  impenetrable  swamps  of 
the  Yazoo,  the  home  of  the  ibis.  Here,  too,  was  the  haunt 
of  the  alligator;  k  might  be  said  that  here  were  cities  of 
alligators.  The  land  was  green  with  reeds  and  deep  with 
mire.  The  poisonous  serpent  coiled  here,  and  the  air  was 
poison. 

But  into  the  reeds  of  the  poisoned  air  Audubon  went, 
intent  on  doing  the  perfect  work  of  his  almost  solitary 
calling. 

He  came  one  day  to  a  miry  weir,  where  the  wood  ibises 
lived  among  the  slimy  reptiles.  He  was  wading  through  the 
weir  with  his  dog  Plato,  and  his  knife  drawn  as  a  defense 
against  alligators,  when  the  waters  grew  deep,  and  he  flung 
his  traveling  bag  to  the  shore. 

He  presently  gained  the  short,  when  his  dog  became 
greatly  excited.  Audubon  looked  around  for  the  cause. 

"Stand  still  or  die!" 


THE  SICK  BOY  135 

He  heard  a  voice,  but  saw  no  man.  He  cocked  his 
gun. 

The  tall  canes  began  to  waver  before  him. 

A  giant  negro  rose  up. 

"Stand  still  or  die!" 

The  negro  had  a  gun,  but  Audubon  saw  it  was  worth- 
less. He  dropped  the  stock  of  his  own  gun  on  the  ground 
and  turned  to  the  negro  a  friendly  face. 

"  I  am  not  your  enemy,"  said  Audubon,  "  but  only  a 
hunter.  Who  are  you?  " 

"  Will  you  not  betray  an  honest  man,  master,  'fore 
God?" 

"  I  never  betrayed  an  honest  man.  I  tell  you  the  truth. 
I  bear  no  man  an  ill  will." 

"  And  you  will  not  give  me  up?  " 

"  If  you  are  not  a  criminal  your  secret  shall  be  mine." 

"Then  I  am  a  runaway — a  fugitive.  I  ran  away  for 
the  love  of  my  own  wife  and  children.  We  were  to  be  sold 
apart,  and  I  hid  them  here  in  the  swamps  of  the  canes.  I 
love  my  own  wife  and  children,  stranger.  It  is  the  will  of 
God  that  I  should  love  them,  and  that  they  should  be  mine. 
Is  not  that  right,  stranger?  " 

"  That  law  is  right." 

"  Then  follow  me  to  my  house.  I  will  shelter  you 
there,  and  help  you  to  carry  away  your  birds.  I  know  the 
trails  of  the  swamps." 

The  negro's  eyes  glowed,  and  an  amiable  and  lovable 


136  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

expression  filled  his  face.  It  was  evident  that  his  family 
to  him  was  everything — it  was  more  than  life.  He  would 
rather  die  than  be  separated  from  his  own. 

"  I  will  follow  you,"  said  Audubon. 

"  Then  I  will  lay  my  old  gun  down  here,  that  you  may 
know  my  heart  is  true." 

He  laid  his  gun  down  by  a  tree. 

"  And  you  shall  take  my  knife." 

He  handed  the  knife  to  Audubon. 

They  traveled  into  a  mighty  swamp,  the  home  of 
great  reptiles,  and  flocks  of  pelican-like  birds.  The  ways 
were  tortuous  and  winding. 

At  last  the  negro  stopped  and  uttered  a  cry,  or  call, 
that  pierced  the  ear  of  Audubon  and  he  involuntarily 
leveled  his  gun. 

"  No  harm,  massa,"  said  the  negro.  "  Put  aside  your 
weapon,  no  harm.  I  only  did  that  to  let  my  wife  know 
that  I  am  coming. 

He  listened. 

His  cry  was  answered  by  a  woman  at  a  point  in  the 
distance. 

"  My  wife,  my  own  wife,  mine,"  he  said,  with  a  look 
of  delight. 

"  O  master,  my  wife  may  be  black,  but  she  is  as  beau- 
tiful to  me  as  the  wife  of  the  President  is  to  her  own.  She  is 
to  me  like  a  queen.  You  shall  see  her  and  my  little  chil- 
dren." 


THE  SICK  BOY  137 

They  came  at  last  to  a  knoll  in  the  great  cane-brake. 
His  wife  rushed  out  to  welcome  him,  and  his  children 
followed  her.  His  wife  heard  his  story  of  meeting  the 
white  hunter,  and  the  children  made  friends  with  the 
dog. 

He  told  his  tale  in  the  evening  as  they  all  partook  of 
a  repast.  His  master  had  sustained  heavy  losses,  and  was 
compelled  to  sell  a  part  of  his  estate  and  some  of  his  slaves. 
He  had  sold  this  man's  wife  and  children  to  a  planter  some 
hundred  miles  distant.  They  could  not  live  apart,  so  he 
contrived  means  of  meeting  his  own  and  planned  an  escape 
into  these  dread  swamps  of  mire  and  poison,  happy  at  heart 
if  he  could  be  with  his  own.  A  hell  were  a  heaven  if  he 
could  be  with  his  own. 

They  had  escaped  in  a  hurricane,  and  he  had  found  this 
retreat,  where  alligators,  serpents,  and  poisoned  air  would 
be  his  defense,  for  the  sake  of  his  own. 

"  I  wish  you  could  secure  for  us  a  common  master," 
said  he. 

His  tale  went  to  the  heart  of  Audubon. 

He  resolved  to  go  to  one  of  the  negro's  former  mas- 
ters and  try  to  arrange  for  a  safe  return  of  the  fugitives 
to  a  single  plantation. 

He  put  aside  the  ibises  he  had  found  in  the  cane-brake 
for  this  act  of  humanity.  He  found  the  first  master  of  the 
fugitive  family,  and  appealed  to  his  heart. 

The  planter  heard  his  story  with  willing  ears.    He  would 


138  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

receive  the  negro  back,  and  purchase  his  family  for  him,  and 
they  should  have  one  cabin.    He  did  so. 

So  the  evenings  came  and  went  at  the  beech-woods. 

Little  could  that  true-hearted  family  have  dreamed  of 
what  awaited  them  in  the  near  future. 

This  was  a  time  for  reflection — under  the  trees. 

"  You  have  done  a  great  work,  father,"  said  Victor. 

"  How  can  I  make  it  known  to  the  world?  How  can  I 
let  the  world  see  what  I  have  done?  I  must  go  to  London. 
London  is  the  world." 

"  I  will  work  for  you  in  Louisville  or  anywhere  while 
you  are  gone,  if  I  can  best  help  you  in  that  way.  You  may 
have  the  money  I  earn." 

"  You  have  your  mother's  heart.  Oh,  it  is  worth  a 
world  to  feel  a  heart  like  yours  beating  true  to  mine.  I  am 
happy  in  my  poverty  with  such  a  son  as  you. 

"  My  son,  I  sometimes  think  of  the  words  of  the  old 
Knitter  at  Nantes,  who  said  that,  on  account  of  my  dili- 
gence, I  would  stand  before  kings.  If  I  could  secure  the 
signature  of  George  IV  to  my  drawings,  what  a  man  I  would 
be!  The  world  would  see  in  my  pictures  what  America  is; 
the  feet  of  an  army  of  pioneers  would  follow  me.  Yes,  I 
must  go  to  England.  I  was  led  to  my  destiny  by  suggestion, 
and  suggestion  is  as  a  whisper  from  God." 

The  two  prepared  to  return  to  Louisville  together  in 
October.  They  reached  Green  Eiver  on  foot,  when  a  new 


THE  SICK  BOY  139 

trouble  came.  Victor  did  not  recover  from  his  fever  as 
rapidly  as  his  father,  and  he  seems  to  have  been  overcome 
by  the  sequences. 

Auduboii  procured  a  wagon  and  laid  his  boy  in  it  and 
traveled  beside  him.  What  a  journey  that  must  have  been 
amid  the  bright  days  of  the  falling  leaves ! 

Audubon  journeyed  on  through  sparsely  inhabited 
woods.  Two  things  troubled  him:  his  lack  of  money,  and 
lack  of  a  larger  knowledge  of  wanting  to  do  perfect 
work. 

He  talked  with  his  sick  boy. 

"  Perfect  work  was  the  ideal  of  my  father.  He  tried 
to  prepare  me  for  it." 

"  The  woods  open  as  we  go  on,"  we  may  fancy  his  son 
to  have  said;  "  so  it  will  be  with  life." 

"  Yes,  the  current  of  the  mountain  stream  knows  the 
way,  and  I  am  doing  the  best  I  can.  To  do  the  best  one  can 
leads  to  a  larger  and  higher  way." 

He  nursed  the  boy,  and  the  forest  birds  came  to  the 
edges  of  the  road  pines  to  wonder  at  them  as  they  went  on 
their  way.  They  had  one  consolation:  the  whole  family 
were  one  in  the  love  and  trust  of  each  other's  heart. 

It  was  on  this  perilous  forest  journey  from  Florida  to 
Louisville  that  a  very  strange  incident  of  natural  history 
occurred. 

They  came  to  a  squatter's  cabin  in  the  woods. 


140  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

The  squatter  seems  to  have  been  a  kindly  man,  a  rude 
lover  of  nature,  and  he  was  being  followed  by  a  black-wolf- 
like  little  dog. 

The  squatter  welcomed  them,  and  when  they  sat  down 
outside  of  his  cabin  to  talk,  the  black  wolf  lay  down  at 
his  feet. 

"  He  seems  capable  of  affection,"  said  Audubon. 

"  Everything  is,  if  you  treat  it  right.  There  is  a  good 
spot  in  all  things,  a  saving  remnant  in  every  heart  that 
lives." 

"  Where  did  you  find  him?  " 

"  Oh,  I  brought  him  up  like  a  kitten.  See  him  lick 
my  hand.  Say,  why  could  not  wolves  be  tamed  and  made 
useful?  The  heart  conquers  all  things,  in  my  opinion,  if 
one  only  knows  how." 

The  black  wolf  seemed  to  understand  the  friendliness 
of  tone,  and  leaped  about  in  the  sunlight  as  if  perfectly 
contented  and  happy. 

"See  how  he  is  overjoyed  to  obey  me!"  said  the 
squatter. 

"  Ranger,  here;  leap  up  here." 

The  wolf  leaped  into  his  lap,  and  the  squatter  hugged 
him  to  his  breast. 

"  He  will  follow  me  anywhere,  and  do  everything  I 
direct  him  to  do  as  far  as  he  can  understand.  That  is  all 
that  humans  can  do." 

Audubon    and    Victor    studied    the    black    wolf    with 


THE  SICK  BOY  141 

wonder.  Naturalists  that  they  were,  they  had  hardly  seen 
a  friendship  like  that  before. 

"  No  one  need  to  be  lonesome  in  the  woods,"  said  the 
squatter.  "  The  world  is  full  of  friends  everywhere,  if  you 
only  treat  it  rightly." 

Audubon  was  very  poor,  but  he  wanted  to  own  that 
black  wolf. 

"  For  how  much  would  you  sell  him  to  me  ? "  asked 
Audubon. 

"  Sell  him?  Why,  I  couldn't  part  with  him.  See  him 
cuddle  up  to  me  as  though  I  were  his  best  friend.  I  could 
not  sell  a  heart  like  that." 

"  I  will  give  you  five  dollars  for  him." 

"  Couldn't  think  of  it.  I  would  be  dreadful  lonesome 
without  him,  all  out  here  in  the  woods  alone.  I  brought 
him  up  to  be  company  for  me.  It  would  be  like  selling 
one  of  my  children." 

Audubon  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  hundred-dollar  bill 
that  he  had  been  saving  for  special  needs. 

"  Look  at  that,  friend.  I  will  give  you  one  hundred 
dollars  for  him." 

The  squatter  probably  never  saw  so  much  money 
before. 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  oblige  you,  stranger,  but  I  can't 
part  with  the  animal  nohow.  It  wouldn't  be  using  him 
right." 

The  story  in  its  leading  incidents  is  substantially  true. 


142  IN  THE  DAYS  OP  AUDUBON 

The  family  affection  grew.  Audubon  thus  spoke  to 
Victor  in  reference  to  his  wife  in  the  days  of  failure,  and 
here  we  use  his  own  words: 

"  Your  mother  held  in  her  arms  your  baby  sister.  She 
felt  the  pangs  of  misfortune  perhaps  more  heavily  than  I, 
but  never  for  an  hour  lost  her  courage;  her  brave  and 
cheerful  spirit  accepted  all,  and  no  reproaches  from  her 
lips  ever  wounded  my  heart. 

"  With  her  was  I  always  not  rich? " 

Audubon's  heart  lived  more  and  more  in  the  affection 
of  Victor,  who  amid  all  misfortune  was  the  same  to  him. 
He  thus  wrote  to  him  in  regard  to  his  wife: 

"  Should  the  Author  of  all  things  deprive  me  of  my 
life  work  for  the  comfort  of  the  dear  being  who  gave 
you  birth.  Work  for  her,  my  son,  as  long  as  it  may  be 
the  pleasure  of  God  to  grant  her  life.  Never  neglect  her 
a  moment;  in  a  word,  prove  to  her  that  you  are  truly 
a  son."  * 

Victor  Audubon  needed  not  such  an  admonition.  He 
was  a  gentleman  in  himself,  and  he  carried  with  him  the 
family  heart. 

In  his  adversity  Audubon  never  neglected  the  "  gift 
that  was  in  him." 

He  says — and  what  a  picture  this  is! — 

"  Among  all  these  adverse  circumstances  I  never  for 

*  Audubon's  own  words. 


Father  and  son  painted  together. 


THE  SICK  BOY  143 

a  day  gave  up  listening  to  the  songs  of  our  birds,  or  watch- 
ing their  peculiar  habits,  or  delineating  them  in  the  best 
way  I  could;  nay,  during  my  deepest  troubles  I  frequently 
would  wrench  myself  away  from  the  people  around  me 
and  retire  to  some  secluded  part  of  our  noble  forests,  and 
many  a  time  at  the  sound  of  the  wood- thrushes'  melodies 
have  I  fallen  upon  my  knees  and  there  prayed  earnestly 
to  our  God." 

It  was  the  winter  of  1823-'24.  Audubon  had  returned 
from  the  long  Southern  journey  to  Louisville,  the  journey 
on  which  he  had  been  stricken  down  with  the  yellow  fever, 
when  his  faithful  wife  went  out  into  the  forests  to  nurse 
him.  He  engaged  a  room  for  himself  and  Victor  at  Ship- 
pingport,  where  the  father  and  son  painted  all  winter. 

He  gave  himself  to  his  life  illustrations,  doing  as  perfect 
work  as  he  was  able  on  his  beloved  Birds  of  America.  He 
lived  simply  in  a  single  room,  but  the  sky,  the  bright  waters, 
and  the  forests  all  were  his.  He  talked  to  Victor  as  to  his 
heart,  and  the  boy,  like  the  Knitter  of  Nantes,  came  to 
believe  that  he  would  one  day  "  stand  before  kings." 

A  trader  of  the  town  saw  how  impoverished  they  were 
and  wished  to  help  them.  He  came  to  them  one  day. 

"  Mr.  Audubon,  my  business  prospers,  and  I  want  a 
sign  over  my  door  that  will  be  worthy  of  it.  Would  you 
consider  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  true  artist  to  paint 
a  sign?" 

"  No,  a  well-painted  sign  would  honor  my  art." 


144  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  Will  you  paint  me  a  sign  if  I  pay  you  well?  " 

"My  good  friend,  I  need  the  money.  I  have  tried  to 
live  very  sparingly,  I  and  my  faithful  son.  But  I  will  put 
good  work  into  your  sign,  and  such  as  will  not  be  any  dis- 
honor to  me  or  to  art." 

The  sign  was  painted,  and  other  signs  were  painted  by 
Audubon  for  other  men.  But  though  he  painted  signs, 
Audubon,  in  his  necessities,  was  a  model  gentleman.  That 
any  man  can  be. 

The  meeting  of  a  friendly  eye  is  sometimes  a  turning- 
point  in  life.  That  decisive  moment  came  to  Audubon. 
He  showed  his  wonderful  plates  to  Prince  Canino,  the  son 
of  Lucien  Bonaparte.  The  prince  saw  their  worth  at  once. 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  take  these  to  England,"  he  said, 
"  and  publish  them  in  book  form  by  subscription." 

"  But  I  am  poor." 

"  Take  the  first  steps  and  the  ways  will  open  before 
you." 

He  went  to  his  wife  and  Victor  with  the  prince's  counsel. 

"  Go,"  said  they;  "  our  hearts  are  yours,  our  hands  shall 
be;  we  will  be  true  to  our  own!  " 


CHAPTEE  XVIII 

THE    SIGNATURE    OF    THE    KING 

THE  spring  of  1827  found  Audubon  in  Scotland  and 
England,  becoming  famous  and  yet  still  poor,  seeking  sub- 
scriptions for  American  Birds,  the  price  to  each  subscriber 
being  two  hundred  pounds  sterling,  or  about  one  thousand 
dollars. 

His  book,  in  whose  pages  the  birds  seemed  to  live  in 
their  most  delightful  attitudes,  had  excited  universal  ad- 
miration. It  became  the  custom  among  titled  and  notable 
people  to  offer  Audubon  receptions,  dinners,  and  elegant 
hospitalities  wherever  he  traveled,  and  he  became  the  social 
lion  of  Edinburgh.  The  tales  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  had 
thrown  their  charm  over  him  in  the  American  forests,  and 
he  hoped  to  meet  the  "  Great  Unknown,"  as  Sir  Walter  was 
called,  with  the' thrilling  enthusiasm  that  one  feels  whose 
imagination  makes  gods  of  men. 

But  he  was  miserably  poor.  Whether  he  would 
gain  a  competence  for  his  work  depended  upon  the  number 
of  subscribers  he  could  secure.  He  was  sometimes  elated 
and  sometimes  suppressed  in  his  efforts  to  act  as  his  own 

agent.    He  sometimes  dined  from  tables  of  gold  and  silver 
10  145 


146  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

services,  and  sometimes  wondered  how  he  could  shift  to  gain 
a  meal. 

He  was  going  to  London,  and  his  fame  had  gone  before 
him.  He  would  there  meet  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  the 
almost  idolized  portrait-painter,  whose  fame  filled  the 
world. 

More,  he  would  there  meet  the  famous  Albert  Gallatin, 
the  United  States  minister,  a  man  of  the  rarest  accomplish- 
ments, who  was  schooled  in  all  the  arts  of  diplomacy,  and 
to  whom  Jefferson  and  Adams  had  intrusted  the  choicest 
service  of  state.  Gallatin,  born  at  Geneva,  Switzerland, 
had  become  an  American.  He  knew  well  the  courts  of 
Europe. 

"  Here,"  thought  Audubon,  "  is  the  man  for  whose  serv- 
ice I  have  waited.  He  will  procure  for  me  the  patronage 
of  the  king." 

So  he  went  to  London  full  of  hope. 

He  was  banqueted  by  noblemen,  given  receptions  by 
learned  societies;  his  plates  filled  the  learned  with  wonder, 
but  his  pockets  were  empty.  What  should  he  do? 

He  painted  pictures  secretly  by  day  and  sold  them  at 
night  as  secretly  to  the  paint  stores,  sometimes  in  Jewish 
quarters,  and  the  trade-folks'  places.  Imagine  him  wander- 
ing by  lamplight  along  the  Strand,  unknown,  a  common 
pedler,  selling  his  beautiful  art  for  small  sums,  then  going 
back  over  the  bridges  to  his  quarters  to  prepare  to  meet 
some  illustrious  person  at  a  dinner  in  some  fine  old  hall! 


THE  SIGNATURE  OF  THE  KING  147 

What  would  his  hosts  have  said  had  they  met  him  going  to 
the  cheap  stores  on  that  Strand? 

Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  brought  him  purchasers  for  his 
pictures  and  proved  a  kindly  friend.  But  here  is  a  picture 
of  the  life  of  Audubon  in  those  London  days  when  he  was 
hoping  to  meet  Gallatin  and  be  introduced  to  the  king: 

"  One  day  my  engraver  called  to  say  that  I  must  pay 
him  sixty  pounds  on  the  following  Saturday. 

"  I  was  not  only  not  worth  one  penny,  but  had  actually 
borrowed  five  pounds  a  few  days  before  to  purchase  ma- 
terials for  my  pictures.  The  pictures  which  Sir  Thomas 
sold  for  me  enabled  me  to  pay  my  borrowed  money  and  to 
meet  the  demands  of  my  engraver. 

"  At  that  time  I  painted  all  day,  and  sold  my  work  dur- 
ing the  dusky  hours  of  evening,  as  I  walked  through  the 
Strand  and  other  places  that  the  Jewrs  controlled,  hopping 
in  and  out  of  the  Jewish  shops,  or  other  places,  and  never 
refusing  the  offers  made  to  me  for  pictures  fresh  from  the 
easel. 

"Years  passed.  Better  days  came,  and  when  I  sought 
these  pictures  that  I  sold  in  the  days  of  my  darkness  I 
could  not  find  one  of  them."  Such  is  the  value  of  good 
work. 

One  thing  consoled  him  always  in  his  days  of  poverty: 
his  plates  represented  perfect  work;  the  best  at  last  is  cer- 
tain to  find  the  reward  of  its  own  gravitation. 

He  must  now  have  wondered  if  the  pious  prophecy  of 


148  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

the  old  French  knitting-woman  of  ISTantes  would  become 
true:  "  Seest  thou  the  man  diligent  in  his  business?  He 
shall  stand  before  kings — I  tell  you,  commodore,  he  shall 
stand  before  kings;  he  shall  not  stand  before  mean  men." 

The  king!  It  was  in  the  luxury-loving,  lazy  times  of 
George  IV,  "  the  first  gentleman  in  Europe,"  as  he  was 
called.  The  weak,  merry  king  only  thought  of  to-day,  and 
never  much  of  to-morrow,  and  more  of  his  own  comfort 
than  of  his  empire.  Would  such  a  king  ever  have  an  hour 
to  give  to  a  book  like  the  Birds  of  America?  America! 
what  was  America  to  him  but  a  distasteful  memory?  But 
the  American  birds  were  not  to  blame  for  that. 

Audubon  first  sought  an  introduction  to  the  king 
through  Sir  Kobert  Peel,  but  Peel,  well  knowing  the  habits 
of  the  king,  caused  the  letter  to  be  returned. 

The  heart  of  Audubon  sank,  but  it  rose  again.  Was 
not  his  perfect  work,  and  what  had  the  pious  old  French- 
woman of  Nantes  said?  The  worth  of  his  work  and  the 
assurance  in  his  soul  that  he  had  earned  the  fulfilment  of 
the  Biblical  law  nerved  him  to  a  sudden  resolution. 

"  I  made  up  my  mind,"  he  said,  "  to  go  directly  to  the 
American  minister,  Mr.  Gallatin,  and  to  learn  from  him 
how  to  proceed.  Was  there  no  mode  of  approaching  the 
king  nearer  than  by  passing  his  castle?  I  wanted  to  have 
the  opinion  of  one  capable  of  deciding  the  matter. 

"  So  I  entered  Mr.  Gallatin's  presence.  The  minister 
extraordinary  said: 


THE  SIGNATURE  OF  THE  KING  149 

"  '  I  am  always  at  home  when  I  am  not  out.'  I  under- 
stood his  meaning." 

Audubon  then  astonished  the  minister  by  saying: 

"  I  wish  to  have  an  interview  with  the  king." 

"The  king?" 

"  Yes,  with  his  Majesty  himself.  I  wish  to  introduce 
to  him  my  plates." 

Mr.  Gallatin's  face  lighted  up  with  wonder. 

The  audacity  of  the  plan  must  have  seemed  comical 
indeed.  He  said,  and  we  here  quote  nearly  Audubon's  own 
words : 

"  What  a  simple  man  you  must  be  to  believe  what  is 
said  to  you  about  being  introduced  to  his  Majesty!  It  is 
impossible,  my  dear  sir — impossible.  The  king  sees  no- 
body." 

This  was  a  hammer-stroke;  but,  as  if  to  make  the  nail 
fast  and  sure,  he  added: 

"  He  has  the  gout." 

And  as  if  that  were  not  sufficient  to  silence  the  Amer- 
ican woodman  forever: 

"  He  is  peevish,  and  spends  his  time  playing  whist  at  a 
shilling  a : 

This  seemed  to  shut  all  doors,  and  the  minister  extraor- 
dinary proceeded  to  illustrate  the  hopelessness  of  such  en- 
deavor by  stating  his  own  experience: 

"  I  myself  had  to  wait  six  weeks  before  I  was  presented 
to  him  in  my  position  as  ambassador,  and  then  I  merely 


150  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

saw  him  six  or  seven  minutes.  He  stood  only  during  the 
time  the  public  functionaries  from  foreign  countries  passed 
him.  He  seated  himself  immediately  afterward,  paying 
little  attention  to  the  numerous  court  of  English  noblemen 
and  gentlemen  present." 

What  a  king  was  that!  With  only  one  thought  and 
that  of  himself,  and  he  called  "  the  first  gentleman  in 
Europe." 

Audubon  waited  and  thought.  His  faith  in  the  merit 
of  his  work  rose  again;  perhaps  the  prophecy  of  the  Knitter 
of  Nantes. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  the  Duke  of  Northumberland 
will  interest  himself  in  me." 

Gallatin  laughed. 

"  No,  no.  I  have  called  hundreds  of  times  on  such  men 
in  England  and  been  assured  that  his  Grace,  or  lordship,  or 
ladyship  were  not  at  home,  until  I  have  grown  wiser,  and 
have  learned  to  stay  at  home  myself  and  attend  to  my  own 
political  business. 

"  It  requires  a  written  appointment  of  a  month  or  six 
weeks  before  an  interview  can  be  obtained." 

But  Audubon  kept  his  purpose  strongly  in  mind.  He 
lingered.  Gallatin  at  last  said: 

"  Should  the  king  hold  a  levee  while  you  are  here  I 
will  take  you  to  court  and  present  you  as  an  American  sci- 
entific gentleman;  but  of  course,  of  course — you  must  not 
mention  your  work!  " 


THE  SIGNATURE  OF  THE  KING  151 

Of  what  value  could  such  a  presentation  be  to  him  more 
than  to  a  stuffed  king  in  the  museum? 

Audubon  went  out  into  the  open  air. 

He  was  more  determined  to  secure  the  king's  signature 
than  ever  before. 

Purpose  makes  a  way,  or  breaks  one.  Into  his  purpose 
had  gone  thirty  years.  That  purpose  was  a  flint,  and  the 
spark  was  in  it. 

Audubon  had  found  a  true  friend  in  J.  P.  Chaldren, 
of  the  British  Museum.  This  man  was  earnest  in  his  de- 
sire that  the  king  should  see  the  American  birds  that 
lived  on  paper.  He  had  a  friend,  Sir  Walter  Waller,  Bart., 
K.  C.  B.,  who  had  the  same  wTish.  Sympathy  can  find  its 
way  anywhere,  even  into  the  doors  of  a  lazy  and  luxuri- 
ous king. 

"  I  will  myself  show  the  work  to  the  king,"  said  Sir 
Walter. 

So  Sir  Walter  went  to  his  Majesty  with  the  lively  and 
enthralling  portfolio. 

"  It  is  fine,"  said  his  Majesty,  "  fine!  " 

He  examined  it  with  delight.  The  birds  won  his  heart. 
The  perfect  work  made  for  an  hour  a  true  king. 

"I  will  subscribe  for  it  myself,"  he  said,  "not  as  a 
king,  but  as  a  gentleman" 

Truly  there  was  a  saving  remnant  in  the  heart  of  self- 
loving  George  IY. 

"  JSTot  as  a  king,  but  as  a  gentleman !  " 


152  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

That  signature  would  have  twice  the  value  of  a  poor, 
bored  king,  who  felt  that  his  position  compelled  him  to 
subscribe. 

That  was  not  all. 

"  He  may  publish  the  work  under  my  special  patronage, 
approbation,  and  protection!  " 

Perfect  work  had  won  its  reward. 

The  Knitter  of  Nantes  might  not  have  been  a  prophet- 
ess; good  people  do  not  need  visions  to  see  the  end  of  a 
spiritual  gravitation. 

Sir  Walter  delivered  the  king's  messages  to  Audu- 
bon. 

His  heart  arose  to  heaven,  as  into  the  clear  light  of 
God.  He  saw  the  invisible  hand  that  had  led  him. 

Impossible?  The  things  that  seem  impossible  to  limited 
reason  are  not  so  to  intuition  and  faith.  Faith  leaves  the 
peak  like  an  eagle  and  mounts  into  the  sunlight  through  the 
gathering  cloud. 

This  chapter  is  practically  true,  and  we  have  written 
few  chapters  that  convey  a  more  significant  lesson  for  those 
who  must  toil  against  obstacles  and  await  results.  Truly, 
"  faith  is  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen !  " 

Could  his  father  have  seen  that  day,  or  the  old  Knitter 
at  Nantes! 

But  there  were  three  that  must  know  all — they  had 
had  faith  in  him;  they  had  been  his  life — his  wife,  Victor, 
and  John. 


THE  SIGNATURE   OF  THE  KING  153 

Another  event  happened  that  made  his  fame  secure. 
To  the  signature  of  the  English  king  there  came  afterward 
to  be  added  that  of  Louis  Philippe  of  France. 

He  returned  to  America  to  his  faithful  son  and  wife. 
The  joy  of  the  reunion  was  such  as  could  only  have  fol- 
lowed such  an  experience  as  theirs,  in  which  each  had  been 
"  true  to  his  own." 

"  We  have  done  our  best  for  you  in  helping  you  to  build 
up  your  work;  now  we  will  become  your  agents/'  said  the 
faithful  wife.  So  said  Victor. 

They  became  agents  for  the  work,  The  American  Birds. 
The  price  was  one  thousand  dollars.  We  anticipate  events 
to  say  that  one  hundred  and  seventy  subscribers  were  at  last 
secured,  and  Audubon  was  left  a  fortune  out  of  the  sale," 
after  the  cost  of  the  production,  which  had  been  largely 
advanced  through  the  influence  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
had  been  paid. 

Audubon  went  to  Washington  with  his  wife.  Andrew 
Jackson  was  President,  and  that  was  a  proud  hour  in  the 
naturalist's  life  when  he,  whose  work  had  received  the  sig- 
natures of  two  kings,  seated  "  Lucy  "  at  the  banquet  table 
in  the  White  House  beside  the  courtly  President  of  the 
United  States. 

Victor  prepared  to  paint  animals.  The  father  and 
son  planned  to  visit  the  great  West  and  to  prepare  a  work 
on  The  Quadrupeds  of  America.  Catlin  had  painted  the 
Indian  types  of  the  prairies;  Audubon  wished  to  preserve 


154  IN  THE   DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

the  likenesses  of  the  great  animals  that,  like  the  Indians, 
were  passing  away. 

To  this  great  work  the  father  and  son  now  devoted 
their  lives.  Victor  visited  England  in  his  interests. 

Audubon  made  his  home  at  a  beautiful  retreat  on  the 
Hudson  River,  which  he  named  for  his  wife.  It  is  now 
called  "  Audubon  Park,"  and  is  within  the  city  limits. 

The  world  honored  him  now  with  gifts,  medals,  and 
titles.  With  these  he  adorned  the  walls  of  his  beautiful 
home.  He  associated  his  son  John,  as  well  as  Victor,  in  his 
work.  These  were  coronation  days. 


CHAPTEK  XIX 

AUDUBON    VISITS    BARON    ROTHSCHILD 

AUDUBOX  acted  as  his  own  agent.  The  portfolio  is  still 
seen  in  which  he  used  to  carry  his  drawings  from  place  to 
place,  to  show  them  to  people  whom  he  thought  able  to 
subscribe  for  them. 

He  shared  the  friendship  of  some  of  the  most  notable 
people  of  the  world,  among  them  the  leading  minds  of 
courts  and  of  scientific  societies.  His  visits  to  rich  and 
penurious  people  were  in  a  few  cases  amusing. 

In  1834  he  and  his  wife  and  son  John  sailed  for  Liver- 
pool in  a  packet,  and  had  what  was  then  deemed  a  won- 
derfully favorable  voyage  of  only  nineteen  days.  His  son 
Victor  was  found  to  have  conducted  his  business  very  suc- 
cessfully. Audubon  had  taken  out  letters  of  introduction 
from  leading  Americans  to  notable  people;  these  he  now 
proceeded  to  deliver. 

One  of  these  letters  was  to  Baron  Rothschild,  the 
money-king  of  Europe.  The  baron  had  arisen  to  his  power- 
ful position  as  a  money-lender  from  comparative  poverty. 

His  position  in  Europe  became  so  powerful  that  "Wendell 

155 


156  IN  THE   DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Phillips  once  said  of  the  house,  "  Then  Baron  Eothschild 
said,  '  Napoleon,  be  king,'  and  Xapoleon  was  king." 

Audubon  went  to  the  usurer's  London  office,  where  the 
baron  then  was.  The  counting-house  of  the  baron  was  an 
unpretentious-looking  building;  there  was  no  pomp  or  cere- 
mony there.  Audubon,  probably  with  his  portfolio  under 
his  arm,  went  to  the  place  and  entered  the  money-lender's 
office  without  hindrance  and  introduced  himself  to  the 
gusty  baron. 

The  baron  was  a  corpulent  man  with  a  red  face  and  a 
brusque  manner,  and  was  preoccupied  with  his  work  of 
treasury-making.  He  "  seemed  to  care  for  no  one  in  the 
world  beside  himself." 

Audubon  said: 

"  Baron  Rothschild,  I  think.  May  I  offer  you  my  cre- 
dentials?" 

"  Is  it  a  letter  of  business  or  merely  one  of  introduc- 
tion? "  asked  the  baron,  coldly  as  Socrates. 

"  I  can  not  tell,"  said  Audubon  awkwardly.  "  I  have 
not  read  the  letter  which  I  bring  to  you." 

"  Let  me  have  it,"  said  the  man  of  "  golden  oppor- 
tunities." 

The  baron  glanced  over  the  letter  as  if  it  were  an  im- 
pertinence, and  said: 

"  This  is  only  a  letter  of  introduction.  I  suspect  that 
you  are  a  publisher  of  a  book  or  something  or  other,  and 
want  my  subscription." 


AUDUBON  VISITS  BARON  ROTHSCHILD  157 

Says  Audubon  of  the  baron's  manner: 

"  Had  a  man  the  size  of  a  mountain  spoken  to  me  in 
that  arrogant  style  in  America  I  would  have  resented  it; 
but  as  it  was,  it  seemed  well  for  me  to  swallow  my  disgust 
as  best  I  could." 

"  I  shall  be  honored,  baron,  if  you  would  give  me  your 
subscription  to  my  Birds  of  America." 

"'Sir,'  said  he  [we  can  imagine  in  what  a  tone],  'I 
never  sign  my  name  to  any  subscription  list;  but  you  may 
send  me  your  work,  and  I  will  pay  for  a  copy  of  it.' ' 

His  next  words  annihilated  the  further  expectations  of 
the  agent.  He  said: 

"  Sir,  I  am  busy.     Good  morning." 

The  baron  did  not  care  to  see  any  mocking-birds,  wrens, 
or  mountain  eagles. 

But  a  few  days  afterward  Audubon  sent  to  the  money 
king  his  first  volume. 

It  was  followed  by  other  volumes,  but  to  these  consign- 
ments the  baron  made  no  reply.  He  was  "  too  busy." 

At  last  Audubon  sent  the  baron  his  bill  by  his  agent. 

The  baron  found  a  spare  moment  to  look  at  it;  he 
looked  at  bills  if  not  at  subscription  books. 

He  must  have  jumped  when  he  saw  the  bill;  certainly, 
it  filled  him  with  amazement. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  he ;  "  what !  a  hundred  pounds  for 
birds!  I  will  give  you  five  pounds"  (twenty-five  dollars), 
"  and  not  a  farthing  more." 


158  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  But,  baron/'  said  the  agent,  "  the  work  is  magnificent 
and  very  expensive.  It  will  delight  the  baroness  and  your 
children." 

"  I  can't  help  that.  I  will  give  you  five  pounds  for  it; 
I  will  give  you  just  that  and  no  more." 

"  Then  you  must  return  the  volumes/7  said  the  agent. 
"  Your  subscription  is  a  legal  matter." 

But  Audubon  had  not  the  means  to  bring  a  suit  against 
the  money-lender,  who  thought  that  he  could  not  spare  one 
thousand  dollars  for  a  book  of  birds,  no  matter  what  it 
cost  human  science  and  human  achievement  to  produce. 

Birds  did  not  appeal  to  the  baron: 

"  A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more."J 


CHAPTEK  XX 

THE    CZAR'S    GOLDEN    SNUFF-BOX AUDUBON's    FOREST    TALES 

NICHOLAS  I,  of  the  Romanoffs,  had  something  of  the 
nature  of  Ivan  the  Terrible.  It  is  said  that  Alexander  I, 
who  was  a  benevolent  monarch,  desired  to  see  the  serfs 
freed,  and  to  call  a  council  of  nations  to  disarm  Europe. 
However  this  may  have  been — and  if  it  were  so,  the  latter 
were  a  high  suggestion,  which  the  world  will  some  time  fol- 
low, for  it  is  the  law  of  moral  life  that  the  highest  sugges- 
tion shall  ultimately  be  followed.  Nicholas  began  ruling 
with  an  iron  hand.  Wars  followed.  Hungary  was  crushed, 
and  the  Crimean  War  at  last  broke  his  heart. 

But  on  the  dismal  days  in  his  palaces  the  birds  sang,  and 
the  old  Romanoff  had  a  soft  place  in  his  heart  for  the 
birds. 

The  bulbuls,  or  Oriental  nightingales,  had  a  choice 
window  in  his  many  palaces.  These  birds  were  the  masters 
of  song;  they  made  summer  in  winter  and  they  kept  sing- 
ing-schools. It  was  an  hour  of  almost  divine  music  when 
the  master  singer  of  these  glorious  nightingales  taught  his 
caged  school  to  sing. 

The  language  of  the  court  was  that  of  repression  and 

159 


160  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

war.  But  amid  hard,  rough  councils  rose  the  bulbuls' 
songs,  a  bird  that  Byron  has  made  famous. 

Nicholas  left  his  silent  kingdom  to  visit  Queen  Vic- 
toria in  1844.  He  would  there  hear  the  skylark  sing,  ris- 
ing from  the  meadows  to  the  very  "  gates  of  God." 

In  this  visit  to  the  island  he  was  shown  a  very  won- 
derful book. 

"  An  American  forester,"  said  one  of  his  hosts,  "  has 
produced  a  truly  magnificent  work  on  birds.  He  has  made 
the  birds  of  the  Western  world  to  live  on  paper.  Here  is 
a  volume." 

"  I  will  examine  it,"  said  the  emperor.  "  I  have  a  pas- 
sion for  birds,  and  new  birds  interest  me." 

He  turned  over  the  leaves  of  Audubon's  American 
Ornithology.  He  caught  glimpses  of  what  awaited  the 
world  in  the  American  forest  lands  for  the  first  time. 

"  This  is  truly  a  wonderful  work,"  he  said.  "  Audu- 
bon? He  is  a  French- American.  Well,  such  work  as  this 
ought  to  be  rewarded.  I  must  recognize  it." 

What  should  he  send  to  the  life-painting  Audubon? 

He  was  a  man  sparing  of  his  gifts.  A  snuff-box  was 
a  common  present  among  the  nobility  then,  a  mark  of  high 
distinction,  especially  one  that  was  a  work  of  art. 

Such  snuff-boxes  the  emperor  had  for  the  appreciation 
of  men  of  genius.  He  ordered  one  to  be  sent  to  Audubon. 
It  was  a  work  of  art,  probably  of  gold  and  gems,  if  the 
traditional  description  of  it  be  correct.  The  Czar's  heart 


THE  CZAR'S  GOLDEN  SNUFF-BOX 

went  out  to  Audubon  for  what  he  had  done  as  the  pro- 
tector of  the  birds  of  America :  would  that  it  had  been  sof t- 

i 

ened  in  like  manner  toward  those  who  had  sought  to  pro- 
tect his  own  subjects! 

The  story  of  the  Czar's  gold  snuff-box  went  through 
Europe,  and  delighted  the  people  of  many  museums;  it  sur- 
prised America,  filled  the  papers,  and  slowly  made  its  way 
into  the  backwoods,  and  reached  at  last  the  inn  in  the 
forest. 

And  now  Audubon  and  Victor  are  in  America  and  enter 
the  far  forests  again.  They  are  to  travel  wide  ways. 

The  travels  of  Audubon  and  his  sons  through  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley,  over  the  great  Southern  lagoons  and  the  vast 
prairies  of  the  West,  were  the  means  of  collecting  notable 
stories  as  well  as  specimens  and  pictures,  and  these  the  nat- 
uralist, who  had  been  schooled  by  the  natural  story-teller 
Daniel  Boone,  wrote  out  with  true  art.  He  included  them 
in  his  Ornithological  Biographies,  and  these  we  will  wish  in 
part  to  follow  to  the  end  of  this  volume.  They  picture  the 
life  of  Audubon  as  nothing  else  can  do,  and  the  pioneer 
days  of  America  will  long  live  in  them.  The  past  of  early 
pioneer  times  will  not  die  while  Audubon's  stories  live. 
They  are  among  the  best  American  stories  ever  told. 


11 


CHAPTEK  XXI 

A    HUNT    WITH    A    SQUATTER 

To  begin  these  stories: 

In  1837  Audubon  visited  Texas. 

In  the  course  of  his  excursions  there  he  met  with  a 
squatter  whose  drove  of  hogs  was  being  depleted  by  a 
cougar,  or  a  "  painter/'  as  the  man  called  the  thieving  ani- 
mal. The  squatter  told  the  naturalist  of  his  losses,  and 
asked  him  to  go  with  him  and  hunt  down  the  cougar. 

The  narrative  of  this  hunt  is  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing in  Audubon's  tales  of  the  forests.  It  is  told  naturally, 
but  with  the  vividness  of  an  impressionalist.  The  reader 
finds  himself  in  the  hunt  rather  than  reading  about  it. 

"  Day  dawned,  and  the  squatter's  call  to  his  hogs, 
which,  being  almost  in  a  wild  state,  were  suffered  to  seek 
the  greater  portion  of  their  food  in  the  woods,  awakened 
me.  Being  ready  dressed,  I  was  not  long  in  joining  him. 
The  hogs  and  their  young  came  grunting  at  the  well-known 
call  of  their  owner,  who  threw  them  a  few  ears  of  corn 
and  counted  them,  but  told  me  that  for  some  weeks  their 
number  had  been  greatly  diminished  by  the  ravages  com- 
mitted upon  them  by  a  large  panther,  by  which  name  the 
162 


A  HUNT  WITH  A  SQUATTER  163 

cougar  is  designated  in  America,  and  that  the  ravenous 
animal  did  not  content  himself  with  the  flesh  of  his  pigs, 
but  now  and  then  carried  off  one  of  his  calves,  notwith- 
standing the  many  attempts  he  had  made  to  shoot  it. 

"  The  '  painter/  as  he  sometimes  called  it,  had  on  sev- 
eral occasions  robbed  him  of  a  dead  deer;  and  to  these 
exploits  the  squatter  added  several  remarkable  feats  of  au- 
dacity which  it  had  performed  to  give  me  an  idea  of  the 
formidable  character  of  the  beast.  Delighted  by  his  de- 
scription, I  offered  to  assist  him  in  destroying  the  enemy; 
at  which  he  was  highly  pleased,  but  assured  me  that  unless 
some  of  his  neighbors  should  join  us  with  their  dogs  and 
his  own,  the  attempt  would  prove  fruitless.  Soon  after, 
mounting  a  horse,  he  went  off  to  his  neighbors,  several  of 
whom  lived  at  a  distance  of  some  miles,  and  appointed  a 
day  of  meeting.  The  hunters  accordingly  made  their  ap- 
pearance one  fine  morning  at  the  door  of  the  cabin,  just 
as  the  sun  was  emerging  from  beneath  the  horizon. 

"  They  were  five  in  number,  and  fully  equipped  for  the 
chase,  being  mounted  on  horses,  which  in  some  parts  of 
Europe  might  appear  sorry  nags,  but  which  in  strength, 
speed,  and  bottom  are  better  fitted  for  pursuing  a  cougar 
or  a  bear  through  the  woods  and  morasses  than  any  in  other 
countries.  A  pack  of  large,  ugly  curs  was  already  engaged 
in  making  acquaintance  with  those  of  the  squatter.  He 
and  myself  mounted  his  two  best  horses,  while  his  sons  were 
bestriding  others  of  inferior  quality. 


164  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDTJBON 

"  Few  words  were  uttered  by  the  party  until  we  had 
reached  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  where  it  was  agreed  that 
all  should  disperse,  and  seek  for  the  fresh  track  of  the 
'  painter/  it  being  previously  settled  that  the  discoverer 
should  blow  his  horn,  and  remain  on  the  spot  until  the 
rest  should  join  him.  In  less  than  an  hour  the  sound 
of  the  horn  was  clearly  heard,  and,  sticking  close  to  the 
squatter,  off  we  went  through  the  thick  woods,  guided 
only  by  the  now-and-then  repeated  call  of  the  distant 
huntsman. 

"  We  soon  reached  the  spot,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
rest  of  the  party  came  up.  The  best  dog  was  sent  forward 
to  track  the  cougar,  and  in  few  moments  the  whole  pack 
was  observed  diligently  trailing  and  bearing  in  their  course 
for  the  interior  of  the  swamp.  The  rifles  were  immedi- 
ately put  in  trim,  and  the  party  followed  the  dogs  at  sepa- 
rate distances,  but  in  sight  of  each  other,  determined  to 
shoot  at  no  other  game  than  the  panther. 

"  The  dogs  soon  began  to  mouth,  and  suddenly  quick- 
ened their  pace.  My  companions  concluded  that  the  beast 
was  on  the  ground,  and  putting  our  horses  to  a  gentle 
gallop,  we  followed  the  curs,  guided  by  their  voices.  The 
noise  of  the  dogs  increased,  when  all  of  a  sudden  their  mode 
of  barking  became  altered,  and  the  squatter,  urging  me  to 
push  on,  told  me  that  the  beast  was  treed,  by  which  he 
meant  that  it  had  got  upon  some  low  branch  of  a  large 
tree  to  rest  for  a  few  moments,  and  that,  should  we  not 


A   HUNT   WITH  A  SQUATTER  165 

succeed  in  shooting  him  when  thus  situated,  we  might 
expect  a  long  chase  of  it. 

"  As  we  approached  the  spot  we  all  by  degrees  united 
into  a  body,  but  on  seeing  the  dogs  at  the  foot  of  a  large 
tree,  separated  again,  and  galloped  off  to  surround  it. 
Each  hunter  now  moved  with  caution,  holding  his  gun 
ready,  and  allowing  the  bridle  to  dangle  on  the  neck  of 
his  horse,  as  it  advanced  slowly  toward  the  dogs.  A  shot 
from  one  of  the  party  was  heard,  on  which  the  cougar  was 
seen  to  leap  to  the  ground,  and  bound  off  with  such  velocity 
as  to  show  that  he  was  very  unwilling  to  stand  our  fire 
longer.  The  dogs  set  off  in  pursuit  with  great  eagerness 
and  a  deafening  cry. 

"  The  hunter  who  had  fired  came  up  and  said  that  his 
ball  had  hit  the  monster,  and  had  probably  broken  one  of 
his  fore  legs  near  the  shoulder,  the  only  place  at  which  he 
could  aim.  A  slight  trail  of  blood  was  discovered  on  the 
ground,  but  the  curs  proceeded  at  such  a  rate  that  we 
merely  noticed  this,  and  put  spurs  to  our  horses,  which 
galloped  on  toward  the  center  of  the  swamp.  One  bayou 
was  crossed,  then  another  still  larger  and  more  muddy, 
but  the  dogs  were  brushing  forward,  and  as  the  horses 
began  to  pant  at  a  furious  rate,  we  judged  it  expedient  to 
leave  them,  and  advance  on  foot. 

"  These  determined  hunters  knew  that  the  cougar, 
being  wounded,  would  shortly  ascend  another  tree,  where 
in  all  probability  he  would  remain  for  a  considerable  time, 


166  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

and  that  it  would  be  easy  to  follow  the  track  of  the  dogs. 
We  dismounted,  took  off  the  saddles  and  bridles,  set  the 
bells  attached  to  the  horses'  necks  at  liberty  to  jingle, 
hoppled  the  animals,  and  left  them  to  shift  for  themselves. 

"  Now,  kind  reader,  follow  the  group  marching  through 
the  swamp,  crossing  muddy  pools,  and  making  the  best  of 
their  way  over  fallen  trees,  and  among  the  tangled  rushes 
that  now  and  then  covered  acres  of  ground.  If  you  are 
a  hunter  yourself  all  this  will  appear  nothing  to  you;  but 
if  crowded  assemblies  of  '  beauty  and  fashion '  or  the  quiet 
enjoyment  of  '  your  pleasure  grounds '  delight  you,  I  must 
mend  my  pen  before  I  attempt  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the 
pleasure  felt  on  such  an  expedition.  After  marching  for  a 
couple  of  hours  we  again  heard  the  dogs:  each  of  us  pressed 
forward,  elated  at  the  thought  of  terminating  the  career 
of  the  cougar.  Some  of  the  dogs  were  heard  whining, 
although  the  greater  number  barked  vehemently. 

"  We  felt  assured  that  the  cougar  was  treed,  and  that 
he  would  rest  for  some  time  to  recover  from  his  fatigue. 
As  we  came  up  to  the  dogs  we  discovered  the  ferocious 
animal  lying  across  a  large  branch,  close  to  the  trunk  of 
a  cottonwood-tree.  His  broad  breast  lay  toward  us;  his 
eyes  were  at  one  time  bent  on  us  and  again  on  the  dogs 
beneath  and  around  him;  one  of  his  fore  legs  hung  loosely 
by  his  side,  and  he  lay  crouched,  with  his  ears  lowered  close 
to  his  head,  as  if  he  thought  he  might  remain  undiscov- 
ered. Three  balls  were  fired  at  him  at  a  given  signal,  on 


A  HUNT  WITH  A  SQUATTER  167 

which  he  sprang  a  few  feet  from  the  branch,  and  tumbled 
headlong  to  the  ground,  attacked  on  all  sides  by  the  en- 
raged curs. 

"  The  infuriated  cougar  fought  with  desperate  valor; 
but  the  squatter  advanced  in  front  of  the  party,  and,  almost 
in  the  midst  of  the  dogs,  shot  him  immediately  behind  and 
beneath  the  left  shoulder.  The  cougar  writhed  for  a  mo- 
ment in  agony,  and  in  another  lay  dead." 


CHAPTEK  XXII 

OLD    MISSOURI    DAYS,    OE    THE    WESTEEN    STATES    AS    SEEN    BY 

VICTOE 

No  publication,  except  Lewis  and  Clarke's  Journals, 
that  has  ever  appeared  presents  such  a  clear  view  of  the 
great  Western  empire  as  it  was  in  the  early  days  of  the 
pioneers  as  Audubon's  Missouri  Eiver  Journals.  These  in- 
valuable records,  that  were  once  lost  in  the  back  of  an  old 
secretary,  make  the  past  live  again. 

Having  made  a  name  for  giving  to  the  world  an  im- 
mortal book  on  the  birds  of  the  American  forests,  Audubon 
resolved,  as  we  said,  to  prepare  another  work  on  the  quadru- 
peds of  America.  It  was  yet  the  days  of  the  elk  and  the 
buffalo ;  wolves  filled  the  prairie,  and  the  white  wolf  was  an 
animal  yet  to  be  seen.  Over  the  long  and  winding  Missouri 
the  eagle  wheeled  and  screamed. 

The  native  tribes  had  hardly  begun  to  disappear.  The 
Missouri  River  ran  through  the  lands  of  the  Sioux,  Da- 
kotas,  and  Assiniboins.  Here  were  the  remains  of  the 
gigantic  animals  of  a  prehistoric  age. 

Audubon  saw  that  the  tide  of  a  new  population  was 

moving  toward  these  great  prairies  on  the  winding  river. 
168 


OLD  MISSOURI  DAYS  169 

He  saw  that  the  Indians  and  great  animals  would  disap- 
pear. There  came  to  him  a  desire  to  picture  this  vanishing 
world — to  write  a  history  with  the  brush  of  a  painter. 

"  My  sons/'  he  said,  in  effect,  "  you  know  my  work  in 
life.  I  have  sought  to  paint  the  life  of  the  American  for- 
ests, and  the  work  will  live.  The  king  has  set  his  signature 
upon  it. 

"  I  left  France  with  the  thought  of  doing  this  work 
for  the  work's  sake.  I  did  not  seek  money  or  fame,  but  to 
live  my  life,  and  fulfil  the  gift  that  Heaven  had  given  me. 
I  have  kept  my  heart  pure  that  I  might  see  clearly,  for 
only  the  pure  can  see. 

"  I  have  painted  the  America  of  birds;  I  now  wish  to 
paint  the  America  of  animals.  I  am  an  old  man  now. 
Will  you  leave  your  business  and  give  me  your  help  in  this 
great  undertaking? " 

The  spirit  of  a  father  lives  in  the  son,  and  the  two  sons 
of  Audubon  saw  clearly  what  their  father  wished  to  accom- 
plish. 

"  Yes/'  said  they;  "  go  to  the  lands  of  the  stolid  Indians 
and  we  will  follow  you,  or  will  work  for  you  anywhere,  as 
you  may  decide  our  course." 

His  wife  was  as  noble.  She  had  acted  as  his  agent  in 
London.  She  saw  what  her  boys  had  seen. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  the  old-time  spirit,  "  I  will  give  you 
all  that  I  have  to  give.  You  have  written  the  history  of 
America  in  birds,  paint  it  now  in  the  animals;  one  day  the 


170  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

people  will  read  the  history  of  what  America  was  in  your 
work.  It  will  be  one  of  the  truest  histories  ever  written." 

Victor  became  a  wonderful  painter  of  animals. 

Audubon  now  saw  how  wise  had  been  the  models  that 
his  own  good  father  had  given  him  to  follow.  The  old 
sea-captain  had  wished  him  to  enter  the  army,  but  when 
he  saw  that  his  son  had  another  gift,  he  did  not  oppose  it; 
he  had  opened  the  door  of  life  to  it.  The  elder  Audubon 
had  died  in  1818;  he  had  seen  his  son  working  in  poverty 
in  the  vast  forests;  he  had  never  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
toiler's  success  except  by  faith. 

His  old  teacher,  the  Knitter  of  Nantes,  too,  had  gone, 
but  she  so  firmly  believed  that  when  the  cause  of  success 
had  been  made,  success  will  come,  that  she  never  doubted 
that  her  schoolboy  would  become  a  great  painter.  A  right 
purpose  only  awaits  its  harvest. 

To  picture  the  noble  animals  of  the  West  now  became 
the  life  of  each  of  his  sons. 

These  were  harvest  years. 

In  March,  1843,  Audubon  left  New  York  for  a  journey 
to  St.  Louis  and  thence  up  the  Missouri  to  the  Yellowstone 
River,  a  prairie  country  then,  sixty  or  more  years  ago,  now 
an  empire  of  populous  States,  grand  cities,  networks  of 
railways,  and  multitudinous  homes. 

He  was  accompanied  by  Victor.  The  heart  of  the  father 
and  son  were  still  one.  On  April  29th  they  reached 
Booneville,  distant  from  St.  Louis  about  two  hundred  and 


"The  prairie  dog  hung  on  until  I  shook  it  off.' 


OLD  MISSOURI  DAYS 

four  miles.  It  was  a  river  journey.  The  steamers  were 
slow,  running  some  sixty  miles  a  day.  The  boats  stopped  on 
the  way  on  a  part  of  this  journey  to  enable  the  wood-chop- 
pers to  cut  wood  for  the  furnaces,  for  wood  in  some  ports 
of  the  rivers  was  not  then  offered  for  sale  as  afterward. 
They  reached  St.  Louis  in  the  middle  of  April,  and  there 
began  the  study  of  pouched  rats,  or  gophers,  sometimes 
called  "  prairie-dogs." 

His  experience  with  the  prairie-dogs  was  a  novel  one, 
and  represents  his  methods  of  the  study  of  curious  animals. 
He  says: 

"  The  four  which  I  kept  alive  never  drank  anything, 
though  water  was  given  them.  I  fed  them  on  potatoes, 
cabbages,  carrots,  etc.  They  tried  constantly  to  make  their 
escape  by  gnawing  at  the  floor,  but  in  vain.  They  slept 
wherever  they  found  clothing,  etc.,  and  the  rascals  cut 
the  lining  of  my  hunting-coat  all  to  bits,  so  that  I  was 
obliged  to  have  it  patched  and  mended.  In  one  instance 
I  had  some  clothes  rolled  up  for  the  washerwoman,  and, 
on  opening  the  bundle  to  count  the  pieces,  one  of  the  fel- 
lows caught  hold  of  my  right  thumb,  with  fortunately  a 
single  one  of  its  upper  incisors,  and  hung  on  till  I  shook 
it  off,  violently  throwing  it  on  the  floor,  where  it  lay  as  if 
dead;  but  it  recovered,  and  was  as  well  as  ever  in  less  than 
half  an  hour.  They  gnawed  the  leather  straps  of  my  trunks 
during  the  night,  and  although  I  rose  frequently  to  stop 
their  work,  they  would  begin  anew  as  soon  as  I  was  in  bed 


172  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

again.  I  wrote  and  sent  most  of  the  above  to  John  Back- 
man  from  St.  Louis,  after  I  had  finished  my  drawing  of  four 
figures  of  these  most  strange  and  most  interesting  crea- 
tures." 

At  Fort  Leavenworth  they  were  in  the  land  of  wild 
turkeys  and  parrakeets.  St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  was  then  Black 
Snake  Hills,  a  gopher  territory,  which  little  animals  looked 
upon  the  steamer  as  an  intruder  and  a  wonder.  Indians 
came  riding  down  to  the  boat,  the  Sacs  and  Foxes. 

It  was  June.  The  woods  and  prairies  along  the  Mis- 
souri were  full  of  birds,  the  air  was  wings.  Audubon  and 
Victor  studied  the  shores  wherever  the  wood-choppers 
stopped  to  cut  green  wood  and  gather  dry  branches.  What 
would  we  think  to-day  of  traveling  on  a  steamer  when  the 
wood  had  to  be  cut  or  gathered  to  feed  the  engines? 

Let  us  present  a  picture  of  this  country  around  bustling, 
pushing,  thriving  Omaha,  as  Victor  saw  it  on  this  won- 
derful journey  on  the  primitive  steamers.  It  was  known 
as  Fort  Crogan  then. 

"  Prairie-wolves  are  extremely  abundant  hereabouts. 
They  are  so  daring  that  they  come  into  the  camp  both  by 
day  and  by  night;  we  found  their  burrows  in  the  banks  and 
on  the  prairie,  and  had  I  come  here  yesterday  I  should  have 
had  a  superb  specimen  killed  here,  but  which  was  devoured 
by  the  hogs  belonging  to  the  establishment.  The  captain 
and  the  doctor — Madison  by  name — returned  with  us  to 
the  boat,  and  we  saw  many  more  yellow-headed  troopials. 


OLD  MISSOURI   DAYS  173 

The  high  bluffs  back  of  the  prairie  are  destitute  of  stones. 
On  my  way  there  I  saw  abundance  of  gopher  hills,  two 
geese  paired,  two  yellow-crowned  herons,  red-winged  star- 
lings, cowbirds,  common  crow  blackbirds,  a  great  number 
of  Baltimore  orioles,  a  swallow-tailed  hawk,  yellow  red-poll 
warbler,  field-sparrow,  and  chipping  sparrow. 

"  Robins  are  very  scarce,  parrakeets  and  wild  turkeys 
plentiful.  The  officers  came  on  board,  and  we  treated  them 
as  hospitably  as  we  could;  they  ate  their  lunch  with  us,  and 
are  themselves  almost  destitute  of  provisions.  Last  July 
the  captain  sent  twenty  dragoons  and  as  many  Indians  on 
a  hunt  for  buffaloes.  During  the  hunt  they  killed  fifty- 
one  buffaloes,  one  hundred  and  four  deer,  and  ten  elks, 
within  eighty  miles  of  the  camp.  The  Sioux  Indians  are 
great  enemies  to  the  Pottawattamies,  and  very  frequently 
kill  several  of  the  latter  in  their  predatory  excursions 
against  them.  This  kind  of  warfare  has  rendered  the  Pot- 
tawattamies very  cowardly,  which  is  quite  a  remarkable 
change  from  their  previous  valor  and  daring.  Bell  col- 
lected six  different  species  of  shells,  and  found  a  large  lump 
of  pumice-stone  which  does  float  on  the  water.  "We  left 
our  anchorage  (which  means  tied  to  the  shore)  at  twelve 
o'clock  and  about  sunset  we  passed  Council  Bluffs. 

"  Here,  however,  the  bed  of  the  river  is  utterly 
changed,  though  you  may  yet  see  that  which  is  now  called 
the  old  Missouri.  The  bluffs  stand,  truly  speaking,  on  a 
beautiful  bank  almost  forty  feet  above  the  water,  and  run 


174  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBOX 

off  on  a  rich  prairie  to  the  hills  in  the  background  in  a 
gentle  slope,  that  renders  the  whole  place  a  fine  and  very 
remarkable  spot. 

"  We  tied  up  for  the  night  about  three  miles  above 
them,  and  all  hands  went  ashore  to  cut  wood,  which  begins 
to  be  somewhat  scarce  of  a  good  quality.  Our  captain  cut 
and  left  several  cords  of  green  wood  for  his  return  trip  at 
this  place;  Harris  and  Bell  went  on  shore,  and  saw  several 
bats  and  three  turkeys.  This  afternoon  a  deer  was  seen 
scampering  across  the  prairies  until  quite  out  of  sight. 
Wild-gooseberry  bushes  are  very  abundant,  and  the  fruit 
is  said  to  be  very  good." 

Little  can  the  enterprising  settlers  in  the  fine  cities 
along  this  part  of  the  Missouri  now  imagine  these  vanished 
days  of  animal  life. 

The  buffaloes  were  being  destroyed.  Mr.  Audubon  tells 
us  of  four  boats  on  which  were  ten  thousand  buffalo-skins. 
The  people  on  these  boats  lived  on  buffalo  meat.  Geese, 
ducks,  gulls,  filled  the  marshes  and  creeks.  The  heads  of 
elks  rose  in  safe  distances,  and  antelopes  bounded  along 
wood-skirted  hills. 

The  sun  rose  red  morning  after  morning;  the  prairies 
were  filled  with  bloom,  over  which  south  winds  blew; 
meadow-larks  sang,  all  the  world  was  full  of  life  and  joy. 
Enormous  elk  horns  were  found  along  the  shores.  In  some 
places  the  ground  bristled  with  horns. 

Here  and  there  white  pelicans  were  seen,  and  the  won- 


OLD  MISSOURI  DAYS  175 

der  of  the  gaunt  white  wolf  appeared.  At  a  certain  sand- 
bar Audubon  counted  ten  wolves  feeding  on  the  same 
carcass. 

They  came  to  Fort  Clarke  in  mid-June,  and  saw  the 
American  flag  floating  in  the  air.  It  was  a  trading-post, 
and  near  by  were  seventy  leather  tents  of  the  Crow  Indians. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  was  Fort  Mandan,  built 
by  Lewis  and  Clarke  in  1804. 

These  banks  of  the  Missouri  are  dotted  with  thrifty 
villages  now.  Would  the  reader  like  to  have  a  picture  of 
the  place  as  it  then  appeared? — 

"  We  saw  more  Indians  than  at  any  previous  time  since 
leaving  St.  Louis;  and  it  is  possible  that  there  are  a  hun- 
dred huts,  made  of  mud,  all  looking  like  so  many  potato 
winter-houses  in  the  Eastern  States.  As  soon  as  we  were 
near  the  shore  every  article  that  could  conveniently  be 
carried  off  was  placed  under  lock  and  key,  and  our  division 
door  was  made  fast,  as  well  as  those  of  our  own  rooms. 
Even  the  axes  and  poles  were  put  by.  Our  captain  told  us 
that  last  year  they  stole  his  cap  and  his  shot-pouch  and 
horn,  and  that  it  was  through  the  interference  of  the  first 
chief  that  he  recovered  his  cap  and  horn;  but  that  a  squaw 
had  his  leather  belt,  and  would  not  give  it  up.  The  appear- 
ance of  these  poor,  miserable  devils,  as  we  approached  the 
shore,  was  wretched  enough.  There  they  stood  in  the 
pelting  rain  and  keen  wind,  covered  with  buffalo  robes, 
red  blankets,  and  the  like,  some  partially  and  most  curi- 


176  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

ously  besmeared  with  mud;  and  as  they  came  on  board, 
and  we  shook  hands  with  each  of  them,  I  felt  a  clamminess 
that  rendered  the  ceremony  most  repulsive.  Their  legs  and 
naked  feet  were  covered  with  mud. 

"  They  looked  at  me  with  apparent  curiosity,  perhaps 
on  account  of  my  beard,  which  produced  the  same  effect 
at  Fort  Pierre.  They  all  looked  very  poor;  and  our  cap- 
tain says  that  they  are  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  thieves.  It  is 
said  that  there  are  nearly  three  .thousand  men,  women,  and 
children  who,  during  winter,  cram  themselves  into  these 
miserable  hovels.  Harris  and  I  walked  to  the  fort  about 
nine  o'clock.  The  walking  was  rascally,  passing  through 
mud  and  water  the  whole  way. 

"  The  yard  of  the  fort  itself  was  as  bad.  We  entered 
Mr.  Chardon's  own  room,  crawled  up  a  crazy  ladder,  and 
in  a  lone  garret  I  had  the  great  pleasure  of  seeing  alive 
a  swift  or  kit  fox  which  he  had  given  to  me.  It  ran 
swiftly  from  one  corner  to  another,  and,  when  approached, 
growled  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  a  common  fox.  Mr. 
Chardon  told  me  that  good  care  would  be  taken  of  it  until 
our  return,  that  it  would  be  chained  to  render  it  more 
gentle,  and  that  I  would  find  it  an  easy  matter  to  take  it 
along.  I  sincerely  hope  so.  Seeing  a  remarkably  fine  skin 
of  a -large  cross  fox,  which  I  wished  to  buy,  it  was  handed 
over  to  me.  After  this  Mr.  Chardon  asked  one  of  the  In- 
dians to  take  us  into  the  village,  and  particularly  to  show 
us  the  '  medicine  lodge.'  We  followed  our  guide  through 


OLD  MISSOURI  DAYS  177 

mud  and  mire,  even  into  the  lodge.  We  found  this,  in  gen- 
eral terms,  like  all  other  lodges,  only  larger,  measuring 
twenty-three  yards  in  diameter,  with  a  large,  squarish 
aperture  in  the  center  of  the  roof,  some  six  or  seven  feet 
long  by  about  four  wide.  We  had  entered  this  curiosity- 
shop  by  pushing  aside  a  wet  elk-skin  stretched  on  four 
sticks.  Looking  around  I  saw  a  number  of  calabashes, 
eight  or  ten  otter  skulls,  two  very  large  buffalo  skulls  with 
the  horns  on,  evidently  of  great  age,  and  some  sticks  and 
other  magical  implements  with  which  none  but  a  '  great 
medicine-man '  is  acquainted.  During  my  survey  there 
sat,  crouched  down  on  his  haunches,  an  Indian  wrapped  in 
a  dirty  blanket,  with  only  his  filthy  head  peeping  out.  Our 
guide  spoke  to  him,  but  he  stirred  not.  Again,  at  the  foot 
of  one  of  the  posts  that  support  the  central  portion  of  this 
great  room  lay  a  parcel  that  I  took  for  a  bundle  of  buffalo 
robes;  but  it  moved  presently,  and  from  beneath  it  half 
arose  the  emaciated  body  of  a  poor  blind  Indian,  whose 
skin  was  quite  shriveled,  and  our  guide  made  us  signs  that 
he  was  about  to  die.  We  all  shook  hands  with  him,  and 
he  pressed  our  hands  closely  and  with  evident  satisfaction." 
One  dreary  day  Mr.  Audubon  asked  Mr.  Chardon,  of 
old  Fort  Clarke,  for  a  story,  and  was  rewarded  by  a  narra- 
tive that  was  so  remarkable  that  he  makes  note  of  it  in  his 
journals. 


12 


178  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

IN  THE  DAYS  OF  THE  PLAGUE 

In  the  month  of  July,  1837,  the  steamer  Assiniboin 
arrived  at  Fort  Clarke,  having  cases  of  smallpox.  An 
Indian,  probably  from  the  wilderness,  stole  on  board  the 
boat.  He  discovered  a  watchman  lying  very  still,  as  if 
asleep,  wrapped  in  a  blanket.  He  tore  away  the  blanket, 
wrapped  himself  in  it,  and  went  away  to  his  tribe. 

The  watchman  whose  blanket  was  thus  stolen  was  a 
victim  of  the  smallpox,  and  lay,  while  the  Indian  thief 
found  him,  in  a  dead  or  dying  condition.  The  Indian  took 
the  disease  and  died,  and  the  plague  spread  among  the 
tribes;  the  Indians  "died  by  the  hundreds  daily";  they 
died  within  "  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  day's  sun."  Their 
dead  bodies  were  rolled  down  the  bluffs  and  filled  the  air 
with  deadly  poison.  Men  shot  their  families  and  then  them- 
selves. It  was  in  this  way  that  the  old  Indian  tribes  were 
decimated  and  disappeared. 

"  About  this  time,"  says  Audubon's  narrative,  "  Mr. 
Chardon  was  informed  that  one  of  the  young  Mandan  chiefs 
was  bent  on  shooting  him,  believing  that  he  had  brought  the 
pestilence  upon  the  Indians.  One  of  Mr.  Chardon's  clerks 
heard  of  this  plot,  and  begged  him  to  remain  in  the  store. 
At  first  Mr.  Chardon  did  not  place  any  faith  in  the  tale, 
but  later  was  compelled  to  do  so,  and  followed  his  clerk's 
advice.  The  young  chief,  a  short  time  afterward,  fell  a 
victim  to  this  fearful  malady;  but  probably  others  would 


OLD  MISSOURI  DAYS  179 

have  taken  his  life  had  it  not  been  for  one  of  those  strange 
incidents  which  come,  we  know  not  why,  nor  can  we  ex- 
plain them.  A  number  of  the  chiefs  came  that  day  to 
confer  with  Mr.  Chardon,  and  while  they  were  talking 
angrily  with  him,  he  sitting  with  his  arms  on  a  table  be- 
tween them,  a  dove,  being  pursued  by  a  hawk,  flew  in 
through  the  open  door,  and  sat  panting  and  worn  out  on 
Mr.  Chardon's  arm  for  more  than  a  minute,  when  it  flew 
off.  The  Indians,  who  were  quite  numerous,  clustered 
about  him,  and  asked  him  what  the  bird  came  to  him  for? 
After  a  moment's  thought  he  told  them  that  the  bird  had 
been  sent  by  the  white  men,  his  friends,  to  see  if  it  was 
true  that  the  Mandans  had  killed  him,  and  that  it  must 
return  with  the  answer  as  soon  as  possible.  He  added  that 
he  had  told  the  dove  to  say  that  the  Mandans  were  his 
friends,  and  would  never  kill  him,  but  would  do  all  they 
could  for  him.  The  superstitious  red  men  believed  this 
story  implicitly;  thenceforth  they  looked  upon  Mr.  Char- 
don as  one  of  the  Great  Spirit's  sons,  and  believed  he  alone 
could  help  them." 


CHAPTEE  XXIII 

THE    STORY    OF    HOW    THE    INDIANS    ON    THE    MISSOURI 
DISAPPEARED 

IT  was  forced  upon  Mr.  Audubon  to  see  how  the  In- 
dian tribes  on  the  Missouri  disappeared.  We  know  of  no 
narrative  that  pictures  this  episode  of  the  Indian  history 
of  the  West  like  his  journals.  It  was  not  only  the  white 
man's  powder  that  destroyed  the  tribes,  but  the  plague,  as 
in  early  New  England,  that  went  before  the  coming  of  the 
pioneers. 

There  are  in  America  few  tales  more  thrilling  than 
those  of  this  terrible  period. 

The  plague,  as  we  have  described,  spread  from  tribe  to 
tribe.  "  The  Indians  grew  fewer  day  by  day."  "  Within 
a  few  hours  after  death  the  bodies  were  a  mass  of  rotten- 
ness." 

The  Indians  now  began  to  kill  themselves  when  smitten 
with  the  plague. 

A  young  Mandan  warrior  felt  the  coming  on  of  the 
deadly  fever. 

"  My  wife,  the  white  man's  fire  is  upon  me.    I  am  about 

to  die;  go  dig  my  grave!  " 
180 


HOW  THE  INDIANS  ON  THE  MISSOURI  DISAPPEARED  181 

The  young  woman  had  always  obeyed  her  lord.  She 
marked  the  place  where  he  should  lie,  and  uncovered  the 
earth  for  his  body. 

With  the  eruptive  fever  upon  him  the  young  warrior 
dressed  himself  in  his  festal  robes;  he  sent  for  his  lance 
and  shield,  and,  as  attired  for  a  war-dance,  he  began  his 
death  march  toward  the  grave  which  his  squaw  had  digged 
for  him. 

He  began  to  sing.  His  voice  rose  triumphantly  on  the 
air.  They  watched  him  from  afar,  and  he  went  on  in 
measured  step  in  his  frenzy. 

He  came  to  the  grave.  He  stood  upon  the  earth  that 
was  to  cover  him.  He  threw  his  spear  and  shield  into  the 
grave,  and  began  to  disrobe,  as  if  going  to  rest.  He  threw 
his  garments  into  the  grave.  Then  he  himself  stepped 
down  into  the  grave.  He  swept  the  air  with  his  hunting- 
knife,  and  sank  down  upon  his  weapons  and  war-dress,  and 
his  faithful  Indian  wife  covered  him  with  the  blanket  of 
earth. 

Another  warrior  died  a  more  dramatic  death.  He  was 
a  chief. 

"  The  death  fever  is  on  me,"  he  cried;  "bring  me  my 
steed." 

His  war-steed  was  brought  and  he  mounted  it  as  one 
mad. 

He  flew  on  his  steed  from  village  to  village. 

"  Destroy  the  white  man  wherever  you  find  him ;  it  is 


182  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

he  that  has  brought  you  death!  "  he  exclaimed  wherever  he 
met  with  his  people.  "Destroy  the  white  man!  " 

He  rode  on  until  he  became  so  fevered,  weak,  and  dizzy 
that  he  could  ride  no  farther  steadily,  then  he  turned  home. 

There  white  men  came  to  his  assistance.  Their  kind- 
ness to  him  cooled  his  spirit  of  revenge,  and  he  confessed 
to  them  his  wild  ride. 

"  Bury  me  before  your  fort,"  he  said,  "  and  all  my 
trophies  with  me,  and  when  you  pass  over  my  grave  for- 
give me." 

A  yet  stranger  tale  is  told  of  these  days  of  alarm  and 
death.  It  is  of  a  cure. 

A  young  Indian  was  burning  with  the  eruptive  fever. 
He  probably  desired  to  end  his  misery,  and  rolled  down 
into  a  bed  of  mud  and  mire. 

The  mud-bath  relieved  him,  and  he  crawled  out  of  the 
mire  and  rested  on  the  grass. 

The  sun  was  intensely  hot,  and  it  baked  the  mire  on  to 
his  body  almost  an  inch  thick. 

But  the  fever  abated.  He  crawled  home,  like  a  great 
brick.  He  was  speedily  recovering. 

His  care  now  was  to  rid  himself  of  his  incasement.  The 
eruption  came  off  with  the  baked  earth,  and  he  recovered, 
but  with  scars. 

Famine  succeeded  the  plague.  According  to  Major 
Mitchell,  a  local  authority,  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
Indians — Mandans,  Sioux,  and  Blackfeet — died.  Out  of 


HOW  THE  INDIANS  ON  THE  MISSOURI  DISAPPEARED  183 

the  Mandan  tribes  only  twenty-seven  were  left  at  the  end 
of  the  devastation. 

It  was  in  this  way  that  the  Indian  power  along  the 
Missouri  was  broken. 

The  Indians  and  the  great  animals  were  disappearing 
everywhere.  The  mighty  prairies  were  becoming  the 
graveyards  of  the  past. 


CHAPTEK  XXIV 

A  BUFFALO-HUNT A  GREAT  BEAK THE  HAND  ABOVE  THE 

REEDS 

AUDUBON  had  made  a  friend  of  Lewis  Squires,  who  be- 
came his  secretary.  He  went  to  him  one  day  and  said 
to  him: 

"  Mr.  Squires,  I  have  brought  to  you  my  Journals,  and 
I  wish  you  to  write  in  them  an  account  of  a  buffalo-hunt. 
Such  things  are  passing  away,  and  I  wish  to  keep  a  true 
record  of  one." 

In  Audubon's  Journals  was  found  the  following  narra- 
tive of  a  buffalo-hunt  in  Mr.  Squires's  writing: 

"  By  daylight  we  were  all  up,  and  as  our  horses  had 
not  wandered  far,  it  was  the  work  of  a  few  minutes  to 
catch  and  saddle  them.  We  rode  three  or  four  miles  before 
we  discovered  anything,  but  at  last  we  saw  a  group  of  three 
buffaloes  some  miles  from  us.  We  pushed  on,  and  soon 
neared  them;  before  arriving  at  their  feeding-ground  we 
saw,  scattered  about,  immense  quantities  of  pumice-stone 
in  detached  pieces  of  all  sizes;  several  of  the  hills  appeared 
to  be  composed  wholly  of  it.  As  we  approached  within 

two  hundred  yards  of  the  buffaloes  they  started,  and  away 
184 


A  BUFFALO-HUNT  185 

went  the  hunters  after  them.  My  first  intention  of  being 
merely  a  looker-on  continued  up  to  this  moment,  but  it 
was  impossible  to  resist  following;  almost  unconsciously  I 
commenced  urging  my  horse  after  them,  and  was  soon  rush- 
ing up  hills  and  through  ravines;  but  my  horse  gave  out, 
and  disappointment  and  anger  followed,  as  McKenzie  and 
Bonaventure  succeeded  in  killing  two  and  wounding  a 
third,  which  escaped.  As  soon  as  they  had  finished  them 
they  commenced  skinning  and  cutting  up  one,  which  was 
soon  in  the  cart,  the  offal  and  useless  meat  being  left  on  the 
ground.  Again  the  wolves  made  their  appearance  as  we 
were  leaving;  they  seemed  shy,  but  Owen  McKenzie  suc- 
ceded  in  killing  one,  which  was  old  and  useless.  The  other 
buffalo  was  soon  skinned  and  in  the  cart.  In  the  mean 
time  McKenzie  and  I  started  on  horseback  for  water.  The 
man  who  had  charge  of  the  keg  had  let  it  all  run  out,  and 
most  fortunately  none  of  us  had  wanted  water  until  now. 
"  We  rode  to  a  pond,  the  water  of  \vhich  was  very  salt 
and  warm,  but  we  had  to  drink  this  or  none;  we  did  so, 
filled  our  flasks  for  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  a  few  minutes 
afterward  rejoined  them.  We  started  again  for  more  meat 
to  complete  our  load.  I  observed,  as  we  approached  the 
buffaloes,  that  they  stood  still  gazing  at  us  with  their  heads 
erect,  lashing  their  sides  with  their  tails;  as  soon  as  they 
discovered  what  we  were  at,  with  the  quickness  of  thought 
they  wheeled,  and  with  the  most  surprising  speed,  for  an 
animal  apparently  so  clumsy  and  awkward,  flew  before  us. 


186  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  I  could  hardly  imagine  that  these  enormous  animals 
could  move  so  quickly,  or  realize  that  their  speed  was  as 
great  as  it  proved  to  be;  and  I  doubt  if  in  this  country  one 
horse  in  ten  can  be  found  that  will  keep  up  with  them. 
We  rode  five  or  six  miles  before  we  discovered  any  more. 
At  last  we  saw  a  single  bull,  and  while  approaching  him  we 
started  two  others;  slowly  we  wended  our  way  toward 
them  within  a  hundred  yards,  when  away  they  went. 

"  I  had  now  begun  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  chase, 
and  off  I  started,  full  speed,  down  a  rough  hill  in  swift 
pursuit;  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  was  a  ditch  about  eight 
feet  wide;  the  horse  cleared  this  safely.  I  continued,  lead- 
ing the  others  by  some  distance,  and  rapidly  approaching 
the  buffaloes. 

"  At  this  prospect  of  success  my  feelings  can  better  be 
imagined  than  described.  I  kept  the  lead  of  the  others  till 
within  thirty  or  forty  yards  of  the  buffaloes,  when  I  began 
making  preparations  to  fire  as  soon  as  I  was  sufficiently 
near;  imagine,  if  possible,  my  disappointment  when  I  dis- 
covered that  now,  when  all  my  hopes  of  success  were  raised 
to  the  highest  pitch,  I  was  fated  to  meet  a  reverse  as  morti- 
fying as  success  would  have  been  gratfying!  My  horse 
failed,  and  slackened  his  speed,  despite  every  effort  of  mine 
to  urge  him  on;  the  other  hunters  rushed  by  me  at  full 
speed,  and  my  horse  stopped  altogether.  I  saw  the  others 
fire;  the  animal  swerved  a  little,  but  still  kept  on. 

"  After  breathing  my  horse  a  while,  I  succeeded  in 


A  BUFFALO-HUNT  187 

starting  him  up  again,  followed  after  them,  and  came  up 
in  time  to  fire  one  shot  ere  the  animal  was  brought  down. 
I  think  that  I  never  saw  an  eye  so  ferocious  in  expression 
as  that  of  the  wounded  buffalo:  rolling  wildly  in  its  socket, 
inflamed  as  the  eye  was,  it  had  the  most  frightful  appear- 
ance that  can  be  imagined;  and,  in  fact,  the  picture  pre- 
sented by  the  buffalo  as  a  whole  is  quite  beyond  my  powers 
of  description. 

"  The  fierce  eyes,  blood  streaming  from  his  sides, 
mouth,  and  nostrils,  he  was  the  wildest,  most  unearthly- 
looking  thing  it  ever  fell  to  my  lot  to  gaze  upon.  His 
sufferings  were  short.  He  was  soon  cut  up  and  placed  in 
the  cart,  and  we  retraced  our  steps  homeward.  While 
proceeding  toward  our  camping-ground  for  the  night,  two 
antelopes  were  killed  and  placed  on  our  carts.  Wherever 
we  approached  these  animals  they  were  very  curious  to  see 
what  we  were;  they  would  run,  first  to  the  right,  and  then 
to  the  left,  then  suddenly  run  straight  toward  us  until 
within  gunshot,  or  nearly  so.  The  horse  attracted  their 
attention  more  than  the  rider,  and  if  a  slight  elevation  or 
bush  was  between  us,  they  were  easily  killed.  As  soon  as 
their  curiosity  was  gratified  they  would  turn  and  run,  but 
it  was  not  difficult  to  shoot  before  this  occurred.  When 
they  turned  they  would  fly  over  the  prairie  for  about  a 
mile,  when  they  would  again  stop  and  look  at  us. 

"  During  the  day  we  suffered  very  much  for  want  of 
water,  and  drank  anything  that  had  the  appearance  of  it,  and 


188  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

most  of  the  water — in  fact  all  of  it — was  either  impregnated 
with  salt,  sulphur,  or  magnesia — most  disgusting  stuff  at 
any  other  time,  but  drinkable  now.  The  worst  of  all  was 
some  rain-water  that  we  were  obliged  to  drink,  first  placing 
our  handkerchiefs  over  the  cup  to  strain  it,  and  keep  the 
worms  out  of  our  mouths.  I  drank  it,  and  right  glad  was  I 
to  get  even  this.  We  rode  about  five  miles  to  where  we  en- 
camped for  the  night,  near  a  little  pond  of  water. 

"  In  a  few  minutes  we  had  a  good  fire  of  offal  to  drive 
away  mosquitoes  that  were  in  clouds  about  us.  The  water 
had  taken  away  our  appetites  completely,  and  we  went  to 
bed  without  eating  any  supper.  Our  horses  and  beds  were 
arranged  as  on  the  previous  evening.  McKenzie  and  I 
intended  starting  for  the  fort  early  in  the  morning. 

"  We  saw  a  great  many  magpies,  curlews,  plovers, 
doves,  and  numbers  of  antelopes.  About  daylight  I  awoke 
and  roused  McKenzie;  a  man  had  gone  for  the  horses,  but 
after  a  search  of  two  hours  returned  without  finding  them; 
all  the  party  now  went  off  except  one  man  and  myself,  and 
all  returned  without  success  except  Bonaventure,  who 
found  an  old  horse  that  had  been  lost  since  April  last.  He 
was  dispatched  on  this  to  the  fort  to  get  other  horses,  as 
we  had  concluded  that  ours  were  either  lost  or  stolen.  As 
soon  as  he  had  gone,  one  of  the  men  started  again  in  search 
of  the  runaways,  and  in  a  short  time  returned  with  them. 
McKenzie  and  I  soon  rode  off.  We  saw  two  grizzly  bears 
at  the  lake  again.  Our  homeward  road  we  made  much 


A  GREAT  BEAR  ISO 

shorter  by  cutting  off  several  turns;  we  overtook  Bona- 
venture  about  four  miles  from  our  encampment,  and  passed 
him.  We  rode  forty  miles  to  the  fort  in  a  trifle  over  six 
hours.  We  had  traveled  in  all  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles.  Bonaventure  arrived  two  hours  after  we  did, 
and  the  carts  came  in  the  evening." 

It  is  the  story  of  an  inexperienced  hunter,  but  in  this 
way  the  buffaloes  and  elk  and  the  great  animals  of  the 
Xorthwest  disappeared,  leaving  only  their  white  bones  as 
the  tombstones  of  the  monarchs  of  the  soil.  Civilization 
was  at  war  with  the  buffalo  and  all  of  the  great  animals 
of  the  Bad  Lands  and  the  prairies  that  bordered  the  moun- 
tains. 

A  GREAT  BEAR 

The  forms  of  gigantic  bears  were  seen  among  the  dis- 
appearing animals  of  this  transition  period  of  American  life. 

People  delighted  in  telling  hunting  stories  on  the  slow 
steamers  and  at  the  trading-posts.  One  of  these  stories  finds 
record  in  Audubon's  Journal,  told  by  one  Mr.  Denig: 

"  In  the  year  1835  two  men  set  out  from  a  trading-post 
at  the  head  of  the  Cheyenne,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Black  Hills,  to  trap  beaver.  Their  names  were  Michel 
Carriere  and  Bernard  Le  Brun.  Carriere  was  a  man  about 
seventy  years  old,  and  had  passed  most  of  his  life  in  the 
Indian  country  in  this  dangerous  occupation  of  trapping. 

"  One  evening  as  they  were  setting  their  traps  along 
the  banks  of  a  stream  tributary  to  the  Cheyenne,  some- 


190  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

what  wooded  by  bushes  and  cottonwood-trees,  their  ears 
were  suddenly  saluted  by  a  growl,  and  in  a  moment  a  large 
she  bear  rushed  upon  them.  Le  Brun,  being  a  young  and 
active  man,  immediately  picked  up  his  gun,  and  shot  the 
bear  through  the  bowels.  Carriere  also  fired,  but  missed. 
The  bear  then  pursued  them,  but  as  they  ran  for  their  lives 
their  legs  did  them  good  service;  they  escaped  through  the 
bushes,  and  the  bear  lost  sight  of  them. 

"  They  had  concluded  the  bear  had  given  up  the  chase, 
and  were  again  engaged  in  setting  up  their  traps,  when  Car- 
riere, who  was  a  short  distance  from  Le  Brun,  went  through 
a  small  thicket  with  a  trap  and  came  directly  in  front  of  the 
huge,  wounded  beast,  which  with  one  spring  bounded  upon 
him  and  tore  him  in  an  awful  manner.  With  one  stroke 
of  the  paw  on  his  face  and  forehead  she  cut  his  nose  in  two, 
and  one  of  the  claws  reached  inwardly  nearly  to  the  brain 
at  the  root  of  the  nose;  the  same  stroke  tore  out  his  right 
eye  and  most  of  the  flesh  from  that  side  of  his  face.  His 
arm  and  side  were  literally  torn  to  pieces,  and  the  bear, 
after  handling  him  in  this  gentle  manner  for  two  or  three 
minutes,  threw  him  upward  about  six  feet,  where  he  lodged, 
to  all  appearance  dead,  in  the  fork  of  a  tree.  Le  Brun, 
hearing  the  noise,  ran  to  his  assistance,  and  again  shot  the 
bear  and  killed  it.  He  then  brought  what  he  at  first 
thought  was  the  dead  body  of  his  friend  to  the  ground. 
Little  appearance  of  a  human  being  was  left  to  the  poor 
man,  but  Le  Brun  found  life  was  not  wholly  extinct. 


A  GREAT  BEAR  191 

"  He  made  a  travaille  and  carried  him  by  short  stages 
to  the  nearest  trading-post,  where  the  wounded  man  slowly 
recovered,  but  was,  of  course,  the  most  mutilated-looking 
being  imaginable.  Carriere,  in  telling  the  story,  says  that 
he  fully  believes  it  to  have  been  the  Holy  Virgin  that  lifted 
him  up  and  placed  him  in  the  fork  of  the  tree,  and  thus 
preserved  his  life. 

"  The  bear  is  stated  to  have  been  a's  large  as  a  common 
ox,  and  must  have  weighed,  therefore,  not  far  from  fifteen 
hundred  pounds.  Mr.  Denig  adds  that  he  saw  the  man 
about  a  year  after  the  accident,  and  some  of  the  wounds 
were  even  then  not  healed.  Carriere  fully  recovered, 
however,  lived  a  few  years,  and  was  killed  by  the  Blackfeet 
near  Fort  Union." 

The  exploring  party  were  now  in  the  country  of  the 
Assiniboin  Indians,  the  mighty  Yellowstone  River,  of  the 
bighorns,  and  the  Bad  Lands,  which  looked  like  deserts  of 
tombs. 

They  were  in  disappearing  old  America,  and  it  is  the 
wonder  of  the  world  that  the  ancient  conditions  of  life  so 
suddenly  vanished,  and  that  steam,  electricity,  and  a  demo- 
cratic spirit  should  have  changed  this  stupendous  scene  of 
barbarism  to  a  high  civilization  in  a  single  century. 

It  is  the  law  of  the  world  that  nothing  can  long  last 
before  that  which  is  better,  and  never  was  there  such  an 
illustration  of  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  than  old 
America  and  new  America  on  the  Missouri,  of  which  the 


192  IN   THE   DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

work  of  Audubon  has  left  an  enduring  picture  in  literature 
and  art.     He  painted  the  past,  and  left  it  to  the  historian. 

He  went  to  Florida. 

There  were  no  great  hotels  in  Florida  then;  railroads 
did  not  interline  the  State,  and  the  river-boats  were  few. 
In  all  streams  and  pools  appeared  the  alligators'  heads. 
Audubon  wandered  over  the  pine-barrens  and  under  the 
coverts  of  lacing  vines,  among  the  live-oaks,  where  flour- 
ished the  begonias  and  jessamines,  and  where  almost  night 
and  day  the  rapturous  mocking-birds  sang. 

The  wood-cutters  or  the  "  live-oakers  "  had  begun  to 
do  their  work  of  opening  the  hard  forests  to  the  cold  of 
the  north,  which  has  come  at  last  to  make  roads  of  freez- 
ing currents  of  air  to  blight  the  once  teeming  orange 
trees. 

The  lands  in  many  places  were  so  alike  as  to  lead  a 
traveler  to  go  round  in  a  circle.  The  moon  turned  the 
Stygian  pools,  with  their  webs  of  gray  moss,  into  mirror-like 
enchantments.  Here  the  herons  stood  like  statues,  and  the 
irumpet-creepers  hung  their  bells  from  the  mosses. 

The  turtle  islands,  or  Tortugas,  in  the  clear  purple  seas, 
drew  thither  his  boat.  The  sea  seemed  filled  with  jewels 
and  the  air  with  wings.  The  sunsets  and  sunrises  were  en- 
circling splendors.  Here  he  saw  the  turtles  laying  their 
eggs  in  the  sand. 

Here  he  met  the  "  turtlers,"  men  of  humble  birth,  who 


THE  HAND  ABOVE  THE  REEDS         193 

were  beginning  a  trade  which  has  come  to  enrich  the  tables 
of  Northern  cities. 

One  of  these  toilers  in  the  semi-tropic  sands  related  to 
him  a  remarkable  story,  in  substance  like  the  following: 

THE  HAND  ABOVE  THE  REEDS 

"I  was  paddling  one  night/7  ran  the  story  of  the  turtler, 
"  along  the  sandy  shore,  close  to  the  tall  grass  that  glim- 
mered in  the  red  light  of  the  setting  sun.  I  was  preparing 
to  spread  my  mosquito-net  over  me  and  to  pass  the  night 
in  the  watery,  reedy  wilderness. 

"  Thousands  of  bullfrogs  and  reptiles  filled  the  air  with 
lively  sounds;  flocks  of  blackbirds  were  dropping  down  into 
the  coverts. 

"  There  opened  to  me  a  little  stream,  and  to  insure  the 
safety  of  my  canoe  from  a  night  storm  I  turned  into  it. 

"  A  sight  that  astonished  me  burst  suddenly  on  my  eyes. 
It  was  an  unknown  boat  or  yawl.  It  was  stained  with 
blood,  but  it  had  no  boatman. 

"  I  paddled  up  to  this  mysterious  craft  in  the  lonely 
river,  and  looked  over  the  gunwale.  My  eyes  were  dis- 
tended with  horror.  There  were  two  human  bodies  in  the 
silent  boat,  and  they  were  livid  and  bespattered  with  gore. 

"Was  this  a  ghost  scene?  "Were  the  men  victims  of 
pirates,  or  of  hostile  Indians? 

"  If  these  regions  were  the  resort  of  such  enemies  as 

seemed  to  have  been  here,  I,  too,  might  be  in  danger. 
13 


194  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  The  sun  was  setting;  night  was  coming  on  with  the 
usual  watery  moon. 

"  Suddenly  a  sound  of  deep  distress  fell  upon  my  ear, 
distant  groans  as  of  one  in  mortal  agony. 

"  I  drifted  my  canoe  on  shore,  and  reprimed  my  gun, 
and  started  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

"  As  I  gazed  with  fixed  eyes  in  the  same  direction,  a 
human  hand  was  raised  above  the  reeds.  It  beckoned. 

"  I  pushed  my  way  toward  it. 

"  A  head  arose ;  then  the  breast  of  a  man. 

"  '  Help,  for  the  sake  of  mercy ! ' 

"  The  face  was  terrible.     The  agony  of  death  was  in  it. 

"  The  hand  fell;  the  head  sank  into  the  reeds,  and  there 
was  a  deep  silence. 

"  Was  this  a  vision  ?  Was  the  man  dead,  or  was  he  the 
victim  of  some  foul  deed,  and  dying? 

"  I  went  to  the  place  where  the  hand  had  been  raised. 
There  lay  the  body  of  a  man,  wounded  and  mangled,  and 
in  dying  agonies. 

"'  Water!' 

"  I  ran  for  water  and  filled  my  cup  with  it,  and  hastened 
back  to  him.  I  felt  of  his  heart,  and  bathed  his  temples. 

"  He  had  a  powerful  frame,  and  his  chest  was  rising  and 
falling  as  in  his  last  agony.  A  cutlass  lay  by  his  side.  I 
saw  that  he  was  a  pirate. 

"  Darkness  now  fell  upon  the  wilderness. 

"  '  Friend,'  said  I,  '  do  you  believe  in  God  ? ' 


THE  HAND  ABOVE  THE  REEDS         195 

"  '  I  never  studied  the  ways  of  him  of  whom  you  speak. 
I  am  an  outlaw.  I  have  been  a  cruel  man,  and  I  am  dying 
here  in  the  swamps  of  reeds.  I  murdered  members  of  my 
own  family;  so  I  deserve  my  fate.  Give  me  water  and  let 
me  die.' 

"  The  moon  rose.  I  pointed  toward  the  grand  sight  and 
said  '  God.' 

"  But  his  mind  was  not  to  be  turned  toward  sacred 
things. 

"  '  I  sailed  from  Matanzas,'  he  said;  '  I  have  money,  but 
it  is  buried  where  it  never  will  be  found.' 

"  His  voice  failed. 

"  '  I — am — a — dying — man —     Farewell !  " 

"  He  fell  into  my  arms.  I  could  not  support  him.  I 
laid  him  down.  He  was  dead. 

"  I  went  back  to  the  boat  where  I  had  discovered  the 
two  dead  bodies.  The  buzzards  were  feeding  on  them." 

Such  was  one  scene  of  the  old  days  of  beautiful  Florida. 


CHAPTER  XXY 

ATJDTJBON   AND   DANIEL   WEBSTER,    OF   MAESHFIELD    FAKMS 

IN  early  life  Audubon  gave  himself  to  the  people  of  the 
woods  for  the  sake  of  his  studies  in  bird-life  and  botany. 
Abraham  Lincoln  once  said,  when  asked  how  he  came  to 
have  such  varied  knowledge,  "  I  am  ready  to  learn  of  every 
one  who  can  teach  me  anything."  If  a  man  know  one  thing 
better  than  another,  he  can  well  teach  any  one  who  does 
not  know  that  one  thing.  Audubon  studied  in  his  early 
life  among  those  who  could  best  open  to  him  the  book  of 
the  woods. 

His  associations  later  in  life  were  with  the  same  class  of 
men,  but  there  were  new  scientists  and  statesmen  who  had 
discovered  in  themselves  a  love  of  nature,  and  so  gravitated 
toward  him  as  a  brother.  Charles  Bonaparte  was  one  of 
these;  Cuvier  and  Humboldt  were  others.  We  have  told 
you  of  Wilson  and  of  the  Greek  naturalist. 

Among  the  friends  of  his  later  years  was — not  Webster, 
the  statesman,  as  a  statesman — Farmer  Webster,  of  Marsh- 
field. 

Strangely  enough,  Webster  was  a  lover  of  birds  and  ani- 
196 


AUDUBON  AND  DANIEL  WEBSTER 


197 


mals,  and  he  developed  this  love  amid  all  the  changes  of 
his  political  career.  Amid  all  the  weary  hours  that  he 
passed  over  the  portfolios  of  State,  his  heart  turned  to 
Marshfield.  He  was  in  Washington  the  man  who  shaped  the 
destiny  of  the  nation  and  of  nations,  but  at  Marshfield  he 
was  simply  Farmer  Webster,  and  it  is  said  that  all  the 
farmers  for  miles  around  his  estate  looked  happier  when  he 
was  among  them. 

Did  Audubon  love  the  mocking-bird?    Webster's  favor- 
ite in  the  realm  of  nature  was  quite  different:  he  came 
to  make  the  ox — the  strong,  docile  ox — his  favorite  repre- 
sentative of  the  animal  world. 
To  raise  great  oxen  and  to  plow 
was  his  delight.     He  liked  to 
hold  the  plow  and  with  his  own 
hands  to  break  the  soil. 

Marshfield  salt  meadows 
were  full  of  sea-birds.  Web- 
ster loved  them,  and  to  study 
their  haunts  and  habits. 

He  delighted  in  the  morn- 
ing hours — the  hours  of  the 
birds  and  animals  of  the  woods. 

Would   you  know   what    a 

soul  of  the  naturalist  he  had?  Let  us  illustrate  it  in  his 
own  glowing  words,  and  you  will  see  how  Audubon  and 
he  were  brothers  in  heart  even  before  they  met: 


198  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

"  I  rose  at  four  o'clock,  and  have  looked  forth.  The 
firmament  is  glorious.  Jupiter  and  Venus  are  magnificent, 
'  and  stars  unnumbered  gild  the  glowing  pole.'  I  wish  I 
could  once  see  the  constellations  of  the  South,  though  I 
do  not  think  they  can  excel  the  heavens  which  are  over 
our  heads.  An  hour  or  two  hence  we  shall  have  a  fine  sun- 
rise. The  long  twilights  of  this  season  of  the  year  make 
the  sun's  rising  a  slow  and  beautiful  progress.  About  an 
hour  hence  these  lesser  lights  will  begin  to  '  pale  their  in- 
effectual fires.' ? 

Meantime,  Mr.  Baker  and  his  men  are  already  milking 
and  feeding  the  cows,  and  his  wife  has  a  warm  breakfast  for 
them  all  ready,  before  a  bright  fire.  Such  is  country  life, 
and  such  is  the  price  paid  for  manly  strength  and  female 
health  and  red  cheeks. 

He  used  to  exclaim  in  his  burdened  moments: 

"  O  Marshfield  by  the  sea,  by  the  sea !  " 

Hear  him  describe  a  morning  hour  on  this  estate  by  the 
wide  sea-meadows: 

V 

"It  is  morning,  and  a  morning  sweet  and  fresh  and 
delightful.  Everybody  knows  the  morning,  in  its  meta- 
phorical sense,  applied  to  so  many  objects  and  on  so  many 
occasions.  The  health,  strength,  and  beauty  of  early  years 
lead  us  to  call  that  period  the  (  morning  of  life.'  Of  a 
lovely  young  woman  we  say  she  is  '  bright  as  the  morn- 
ing,' and  no  one  doubts  why  Lucifer  is  called  '  son  of  the 
morning.'  But  the  morning  itself,  few  people,  inhabitants 


AUDUBON  AND  DANIEL  WEBSTER  199 

of  cities,  know  anything  about.  Among  all  our  good  people 
of  Boston  not  one  in  a  thousand  sees  the  sun  rise  once  a 
year.  They  know  nothing  of  the  morning.  Their  idea  of 
it  is  that  it  is  that  part  of  the  day  which  comes  along  after 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  beefsteak  or  a  piece  of  toast.  With 
them  morning  is  not  a  new  issuing  of  light,  a  Hew  burst- 
ing forth  of  the  sun,  a  new  waking-up  of  all  that  has  life, 
from  a  sort  of  temporary  death,  to  behold  again  the  works 
of  God,  the  heavens  and  the  earth;  it  is  only  a  part  of  the 
domestic  day,  belonging  to  breakfast,  to  reading  the  news- 
papers, answering  notes,  sending  the  children  to  school, 
and  giving  orders  for  dinner.  The  first  faint  streak  of 
light,  the  earliest  purpling  of  the  east,  which  the  lark 
springs  up  to  greet,  and  the  deeper  and  deeper  coloring 
into  orange  and  red,  till  at  length  the  ( glorious  sun  is 
seen,  regent  of  day,'  this  they  never  enjoy,  for  this  they 
never  see. 

"  Beautiful  descriptions  of  the  '  morning '  abound  in 
all  languages,  but  they  are  the  strongest,  perhaps,  in  those 
of  the  East,  where  the  sun  is  so  often  an  object  of  worship. 
King  David  speaks  of  taking  to  himself  the  '  wings  of  the 
morning.'  This  is  highly  poetical  and  beautiful.  The 
'  wings  of  the  morning '  are  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun. 
Rays  of  light  are  wings.  It  is  thus  said  that  the  Sun  of 
righteousness  shall  arise  'with  healing  in  his  wings';  a 
rising  sun,  which  shall  scatter  light,  and  health,  and  joy 
throughout  the  universe.  Milton  has  fine  descriptions  of 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

morning;  but  not  so  many  as  Shakespeare,  from  whose  writ- 
ings pages  of  the  most  beautiful  images,  all  founded  on  the 
glory  of  the  morning,  might  be  filled. 

"  I  never  thought  that  Adam  had  much  advantage  of 
us  from  having  seen  the  world  while  it  was  new.  The 
manifestations  of  the  power  of  God,  like  his  mercies,  are 
i  new  every  morning '  and  (  fresh  every  evening.7  We  see 
as  fine  risings  of  the  sun  as  ever  Adam  saw,  and  its  risings 
are  as  much  a  miracle  now  as  they  were  in  his  day,  and  I 
think  a  good  deal  more,  because  it  is  now  a  part  of  the 
miracle  that  for  thousands  and  thousands  of  years  he  has 
come  to  his  appointed  time,  without  the  variation  of  a 
millionth  part  of  a  second.  Adam  could  not  tell  how  this 
might  be. 

"  I  know  the  morning;  I  am  acquainted  with  it,  and  I 
love  it,  fresh  and  sweet  as  it  is,  a  daily  new  creation,  break- 
ing forth,  and  calling  all  that  have  life,  and  breath,  and 
being,  to  new  adoration,  new  enjoyments,  and  new  grati- 
tude." 

The  extract  is  a  poem.  Such  a  heart  was  formed  to 
welcome  Audubon,  and  when  the  great  interpreter  of 
the  American  forests  came  to  him  he  found  himself  in 
him,  and  was  received  with  open  arms  by  the  Marshfield 
farmer. 

So  the  wonders  of  the  forests  of  Marshfield  were  dis- 
closed to  the  visitor  to  Boston.  Webster  met  him  at  a 
banquet,  and  made  Boston  delightful  to  him. 


AUDUBON  AND  DANIEL  WEBSTER  201 

"  I  Lave  confidence  in  the  people  of  Boston/7  said  Au- 
dubon  to  his  son.  "  Live  among  them  if  you  can."  * 

Schooled  in  nature,  Webster's  love  for  great  oxen  grew. 
He  used  to  rise  early  in  the  morning  to  feed  them  with 
his  own  hand.  It  is  said  that  the  cattle  on  the  place  came  to 
know  him,  so  that  not  only  the  houses  but  the  barns  of 
Marshfield  were  gladdened  when  he  was  there. 

There  are  few  more  beautiful  stories  of  lovers  of  natu- 
ral history  than  one  of  the  last  days  of  the  defender  of  the 
Constitution.  His  biographer,  George  Ticknor  Curtis,  thus 
tells  it: 

"  It  was  also  during  those  days  of  gradual  declension 
of  his  strength,  and  after  he  had  become  unable  to  go 
abroad,  that  the  incident  occurred  which  was  so  charac- 
teristic of  him,  and  which  has  been  perhaps  more  remem- 
bered than  almost  anything  of  the  same  nature  that  has 
been  told  of  him.  Mr.  Webster,  as  we  have  seen,  had  an 
extraordinary  fondness  for  great  oxen,  and  he  took  much 
pains  to  possess  the  choicest  breeds.  He  liked  a  good  horse, 
and  appreciated  the  fine  points  of  the  animal;  but  he  was 
not  a  lover  of  the  horse.  I  am  not  sure  that  he  cared  any- 
thing for  dogs,  although,  in  his  most  active  days  of  shooting, 
he  may  have  kept  a  spaniel  or  a  pointer.  But  of  all  the 
brute  creation  he  loved  the  ox.  Oxen  were  the  pets  of  his 
large  agricultural  tastes,  and  when  he  could  not  see  and  feed 
them  he  missed  one  of  his  greatest  pleasures.  He  had  come 
*  Audubon's  own  words. 


202  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

down  one  fine  morning  after  a  night  of  pain,  and  was 
seated  in  one  of  the  parlors  that  looked  upon  the  lawn. 
There  he  had  a  herd  of  his  best  oxen  driven  in  front  of 
the  windows  that  he  might  look  once  more  into  their 
great,  gentle  eyes,  and  see  them  crop  the  grass.  ( It  was,' 
said  Porter  Wright,  in  his  natural  way,  '  his  last  enjoy- 
ment.' " 

Webster  died  at  Marshfield,  and  was  buried  there  by 
the  sea-meadows  and  by  the  sea. 

Not  the  least  among  his  influences  were  that  he  in- 
spired Audubon,  and  honored  the  mission  of  the  naturalist 
as  one  of  the  noblest  among  men. 

And  Audubon  also  helped  Webster  to  see  glories  of  the 
morning  when  the  birds  sang,  and  the  beauties  of  the  even- 
ing on  the  farm  when  "  the  kye  comes  name."  Can  we 
wonder  that  Webster  loved  Gray's  Elegy? 


CHAPTEK  XXVI 

THE    PROTECTOR    OF    BIRDS 

IGNORANCE  is  the  parent  of  cruelty.  As  Audubon 
studied  the  bird  world  his  tenderness  toward  the  winged 
inhabitants  of  the  air  grew.  He  had  no  camera,  but  he 
spared  the  birds  and  animals  that  he  made  his  specimens 
needless  pain.  He  came  to  see  the  rights  of  all  creatures 
as  an  unwritten  law. 

Audubon  was  a  master  of  vivid  writing;  he  almost 
equaled  his  friend,  Washington  Irving. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  passages  in  his  works  repre- 
sents the  wicked  work  and  heartlessness  of  the  egg-hunters 
of  Labrador.  It  is  worthy  of  being  spoken  of  at  meetings 
of  the  Audubon  societies,  for  it  shows  the  true  natural- 
ist's heart  in  its  indignation  against  cruelty  to  the  dumb 
creation : 

"  See  yon  shallop  shyly  sailing  along;  she  sneaks  like 
a  thief,  wishing,  as  it  were,  to  shun  the  very  light  of 
heaven.  Under  the  lee  of  every  rocky  isle  some  one  at  the 
tiller  steers  her  course. 

"  Were  his  trade  an  honest  one  he  would  not  think  of 
hiding  his  back  behind  the  terrific  rocks  that  seem  to  have 


204  IN  THE  BAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

been  placed  there  as  a  resort  for  the  myriads  of  birds  that 
annually  visit  this  desolate  region  of  the  earth  for  the  pur- 
pose of  rearing  their  young  at  a  distance  from  all  dis- 
turbers of  their  peace.  How  unlike  the  open,  bold,  honest 
mariner,  whose  face  needs  no  mask,  who  scorns  to  skulk 
under  any  circumstances! 

"  The  vessel  herself  is  a  shabby  thing;  her  sails  are 
patched  with  stolen  pieces  of  better  canvas,  the  owners  of 
which  have  probably  been  stranded  on  some  inhospitable 
coast,  and  have  been  plundered,  perhaps  murdered,  by  the 
wretches  before  us.  Look  at  her  again.  Her  sides  are 
neither  painted  nor  even  pitched;  no,  they  are  daubed 
over,  plastered  and  patched  with  stripes  of  sealskins  laid 
along  the  seams.  Her  deck  has  never  been  washed  or 
sanded;  her  hold — for  no  cabin  has  she — though  at  present 
empty,  sends  forth  an  odor  pestilential  as  that  of  a  charnel- 
house.  The  crew,  eight  in  number,  lie  sleeping  at  the  foot 
of  their  tottering  mast,  regardless  of  the  repairs  needed 
in  every  part  of  her  rigging.  But  see !  she  scuds  along,  and, 
as  I  suspect  her  crew  to  be  bent  on  the  commission  of  some 
evil  deed,  let  us  follow  her  to  the  first  harbor. 

"  There  rides  the  filthy  thing.  The  afternoon  is  half 
over.  Her  crew  have  thrown  their  boat  overboard;  they 
enter  and  seat  themselves,  one  with  a  rusty  gun.  One  of 
them  sculls  the  skiff  toward  an  island,  for  a  century  past  the 
breeding-place  of  myriads  of  guillemots,  which  are  now  to 
be  laid  under  contribution. 


THE  PROTECTOR  OF  BIRDS  205 

"  At  the  approach  of  the  vile  thieves  clouds  of  birds 
rise  from  the  rock  and  fill  the  air  around,  wheeling  and 
screaming  over  their  enemies;  yet  thousands  remain  in  an 
erect  posture,  each  covering  its  single  egg,  the  hope  of  both 
parents.  The  reports  of  several  muskets  loaded  with  heavy 
shot  are  now  heard,  while  several  dead  and  wounded  birds 
fall  heavily  on  the  rock  or  into  the  water.  Instantly  all 
the  sitting  birds  rise  and  fly  off  affrighted  to  their  com- 
panions above,  and  hover  in  dismay  over  the  assassins,  who 
walk  forward  exultantly,  and  with  their  shouts  mingling 
oaths  and  execrations. 

"  Look  at  them !  See  how  they  crush  the  chick  within 
its  shell!  How  they  trample  on  every  egg  in  their  way 
with  their  huge  and  clumsy  boots!  Onward  they  go,  and 
when  they  leave  the  isle  not  an  egg  that  they  can  find  is 
left  entire.  The  dead  birds  they  collect  and  carry  to  their 
boat.  Now  they  have  regained  their  filthy  shallop,  they 
strip  the  birds  by  a  single  jerk  of  their  feathery  apparel, 
while  the  flesh  is  yet  warm,  and  throw  them  on  some  coals, 
where  in  a  short  time  they  are  broiled;  the  rum  is  pro- 
duced when  the  guillemots  are  fit  for  eating,  and  after 
stuffing  themselves  with  this  oily  fare,  and  enjoying  the 
pleasures  of  beastly  intoxication,  over  they  tumble  on  the 
deck  of  their  crazy  craft,  where  they  pass  the  short  hours 
of  night  in  turbid  slumber. 

"  The  sun  now  rises  above  the  snow-clad  summit  of  the 
eastern  mount ;  '  sweet  is  the  breath  of  morn,'  even  in  this 


206  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

desolate  land.  The  gay  bunting  erects  his  white  crest,  and 
gives  utterance  to  the  joy  he  feels  in  the  presence  of  his 
brooding  mate;  the  willow  grouse  on  the  rock  crows  his 
challenge  aloud;  each  floweret,  chilled  by  the  night  air, 
expands  its  pure  petals;  the  gentle  breeze  shakes  from  the 
blades  of  grass  the  heavy  dewdrops. 

"  On  the  guillemot  isle  the  birds  have  again  settled, 
and  now  renew  their  loves.  Startled  by  the  light  of  day, 
one  of  the  eggers  springs  on  his  feet  and  rouses  his  com- 
panions, who  stare  around  them  for  a  while,  endeavoring 
to  recollect  their  senses.  Mark  them,  as  with  clumsy 
fingers  they  clear  their  drowsy  eyes;  slowly  they  rise  on 
their  feet.  See  how  the  lubbers  stretch  out  their  arms  and 
yawn ;  you  shrink  back,  for  verily  f  that  throat  might 
frighten  a  shark.7  But  the  master,  soon  recollecting  that 
so  many  eggs  are  worth  a  dollar  or  a  crown,  casts  his  eye 
toward  the  rock,  marks  the  day  in  his  memory,  and  gives 
orders  to  depart.  The  light  breeze  enables  them  to  reach 
another  harbor  a  few  miles  distant — one  which,  like  the 
last,  lies  concealed  from  the  ocean  by  some  other  rocky 
isle.  Arrived  there,  they  re-enact  the  scene  of  yesterday, 
crushing  every  egg  that  they  can  find. 

"  For  a  week  each  night  is  passed  in  drunkenness  and 
brawls,  until,  having  reached  the  last  breeding-place  on  the 
coast,  they  return,  touch  in  every  isle  in  succession,  shoot 
as  many  birds  as  they  need,  collect  the  fresh  eggs,  and  lay 
in  a  cargo.  At  every  step  each  ruffian  picks  up  an  egg,  so 


THE  PROTECTOR  OF  BIRDS  207 

beautiful  that  any  man  with  a  feeling  heart  would  pause 
to  consider  the  motive  which  could  induce  him  to  carry 
it  off. 

"  But  nothing  of  this  sort  occurs  to  the  egger,  who 
gathers  and  gathers  until  he  has  swept  the  rock  bare.  The 
dollars  alone  chink  in  his  sordid  mind,  and  he  assiduously 
plies  the  trade  which  no  man  would  ply  who  had  the  talents 
and  industry  to  procure  subsistence  by  honorable  means." 


CHAPTEE  XXYII 

THE    INN    IN    THE    FOREST STRANGE    NEWS 

WE  return  to  the  old  forest  inn  once  more.  It  is 
toward  evening,  and  the  same  people  are  there — Calvert, 
the  farmers,  and  the  hermit  of  the  hut  at  the  mouth  of 
Echo  Cave. 

The  farmers  are  weary  and  are  resting  on  the  bench 
under  the  trees,  some  holding  rakes  and  some  pitchforks  in 
their  hands.  Their  horses  are  eating  green  grass  by  the 
wayside.  Herons  and  birds  that  go  in  the  long  twilights 
to  feed  on  the  banks  of  the  rivers  are  wending  their  soli- 
tary ways  in  the  clear  sky,  their  plumage  reddened  by  the 
flushes  of  the  near  sunset. 

The  woods  are  still.  The  chambers  of  the  air  hold  a 
"  solemn  stillness,"  save  the  chippering  of  swallows. 

A  lusty  man  came  riding  up  to  the  inn.  He  had  been 
to  the  village  and  had  brought  the  weekly  mail.  He  spread 
the  letters  on  the  open  table  of  the  shop  part  of  the  inn, 
which  served  as  a  post-office,  then  took  his  weekly  Wash- 
ington paper  out  to  the  stoop  and  sat  down. 

"  What's  the  news,  Squire  James  ? "  asked  one  of  the 

farmers. 

208 


THE  INN  IN  THE  FOREST— STRANGE  NEWS         209 

"  Wait  till  I  look  over  the  paper,  and  I  will  tell  you, 
should  I  find  anything  worthy  of  remark." 

Some  of  the  men  lit  their  pipes;  others  fanned  them- 
selves with  burdock  leaves;  and  others  sat  motionless. 

The  reader  at  last  looked  up. 

"  Well,  here  is  something  strange.  Calvert !  Calvert, 
come  out  here  now,  and  stand  in  the  cool.  I've  something 
to  read  to  you." 

"  Well,  what  it  is,  squire?  " 

"  Say,  don't  you  remember  that  young  man,  Audu- 
bon?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  can  see  him  now  in  my  mind's  eye.  He 
hunted  chickadees." 

"You  laughed  at  him?" 

"  Any  one  would ;  he  gave  away  his  own  property  to 
his  sister,  and  he  lost  all  his  wife's  fortune,  and  took  to 
portrait-painting  to  pay  his  debts.  Laughed  at  him!  I 
guess  I  did.  Why,  he  looked  like  a  wild  man  of  the  woods, 
always  a  bird-hunting  and  painting  birds — didn't  know 
enough  to  earn  his  salt." 

"  Had  you  heard  that  he  had  written  a  book?  " 

"  A  book !  What  could  be  written  about  wrens,  and 
chickadees,  and  owls?  Who  does  he  expect  is  going  to 
read  it?" 

"  He  has  been  selling  it  by  subscription." 

"What  does  he  ask  for  it?" 

"  A  thousand  dollars  a  copy,  I  am  told." 
14 


210  IN  THE  DAYS  OP  AUDUBON 

"A  thousand  dollars!     Has  any  one  bought  one  yet?" 

"  Yes." 

"Who?" 

"The  king." 

"  You  don't  say  that.     Squire,  you  are  joking!  " 

"  E"o,  no.  I  have  just  been  reading  something  in  the 
paper  about  him.  What  do  you  think  it  is? " 

"  That  breaks  me.  He  was  about  the  most  unlikely  man 
to  come  to  any  good  end  that  I  ever  met.  But,  as  I  think 
of  it,  he  meant  to  be  honest  and  was  good-hearted,  and  he 
loved  nature,  and  he  studied  the  woods  as  though  he  had  a 
royal  commission  to  find  out  all  about  nature  and  birds  and 
animals,  and  things  that  we  hold  at  small  account.  But, 
squire,  read  us  what  the  paper  says  about  him.  I  hold 
no  grudge  against  him." 

"  He  has  been  given  a  present." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  I  hope  it  is  something  useful. 
Few  people  can  need  help  more.  Who  has  made  him  a 
present? " 

"  The  emperor." 

"You  don't  say  so,  squire!     What  emperor?" 

"  The  Czar." 

"The  Czar  of  Eussia?" 

"  The  Czar  of  Kussia." 

"How  did  the  Czar  of  Russia  hear  of  him?" 

"  He  has  seen  the  birds  that  he  painted." 

"  What,  those  that  he  painted  out  here  ? " 


A  thousand  dollars  a  copy  ! 


THE  INN  IN  THE  FOREST— STRANGE  NEWS         211 

"  Yes,  the  birds  of  the  American  forest." 

"  The  chickadees,  and  herons,  and  eagles? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  showed  them  to  him?  " 

"  A  court  botanist.  The  Czar  has  been  visiting  Eng- 
land." 

"  The  court  of  Queen  Victoria?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  amaze  me,  squire ;  it  don't  seem  possible !  I  knew 
that  man  had  a  purpose  in  him;  I  could  see  it  in  his  eye. 
What  is  it  the  Czar  has  given  him?  " 

"  A  snuff-box." 

"  That  ain't  much  of  a  gift." 

"  But  probably  it  is  gold." 

"  That  alters  the  case." 

"  And  studded  with  gems,  as  I  think.  But  that  is 
not  all;  for  the  Czar  to  give  a  golden  snuff-box  to  a  scien- 
tist is  a  mark  of  the  highest  distinction.  Audubon  has 
become  one  of  the  most  famous  men  of  the  world.  Let 
me  read." 

He  read  a  paragraph  relating  to  the  delight  which  the 
Czar  had  found  in  Audubon's  American  Birds,  which  he 
had  examined  on  his  visit  to  the  English  court. 

The  men  stood  up,  tired  as  they  were,  to  listen  to  the 
wonderful  intelligence. 

"  I  hope  he  won't  come  this  way  with  one  of  his  books," 
said  Calvert.  "  I  never  have  made  one  thousand  dollars 


212  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

keeping  store  and  tavern,  and  he,  it  seems,  has  made  a  for- 
tune by  painting  a  chickadee." 

The  strange  news  spread  through  the  forest  towns 
around  the  inn.  The  old  people  remembered  the  tattered 
hunter,  his  long  hair  and  broad  forehead. 

The  minister  spoke  of  it  in  the  lone  church  at  the  three 
corners,  and  said: 

"  '  Seest  thou  the  man  diligent  in  his  business  ? '  Where 
shall  he  stand?" 

"  i  Before  kings,'  "  said  a  forester. 

So  was  fulfilled  the  prophecy  of  the  Knitter  of  Nantes, 
who  read  in  the  boy  the  laws  of  life  that  compel  success. 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII 

THE  HOME  OF  AUDUBON  ON  THE  HUDSON WHAT  A  NATUBAL- 

IST'S  HOME  SHOULD  BE THE  MUSICAL  WOODPECKER 

LET  us  now,  in  fancy,  following  implied  facts,  pay  a 
visit  to  Audubon  in  his  serene  old  age.  What  was  the 
home  life  of  this  man  who  had  left  the  great  studies  of 
the  historic  painter  David,  while  yet  a  youth,  to  draw  and 
picture  American  forest  birds? 

It  is  a  June  day  on  the  Hudson,  near  the  fifties.  We 
steal  away  from  the  hammering,  growing,  pulsing  city,  to 
Audubon  Park,  a  place  now  within  the  city,  to  a  country- 
seat,  then  a  little  way  out  of  the  city.  The  home  of  the 
naturalist  is  beautiful;  it  is  shaded  with  noble  trees;  it  has 
two  balconies,  or  a  portico  and  a  balcony,  and  the  latter 
looks  down  the  winding  way  of  the  Hudson. 

We  enter  the  grounds,  and  the  wonders  begin.  The 
air  is  full  of  life,  the  flowers  are  blooming,  and  the  birds 
are  singing;  we  feel  the  charm  of  nature  in  happiest  mood; 
we  stop  in  the  grounds,  where  a  noble  elk  lifts  his  horns, 
and  some  fawns  stand  near  him,  and  as  he  looks  toward  us 

their  eyes  follow  his. 

213 


214:  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Dogs  are  there,  but  the  elk  and  the  fawns  do  not  seem 
to  fear  them. 

One  of  the  dogs  comes  to  meet  us  in  a  friendly  way; 
and,  strangely  enough,  the  fawns  follow  him,  as  out  of 
curiosity. 

Majestic  oaks  are  here,  and  elms,  and  a  musical  wood- 
pecker is  drumming  with  the  singing  of  robins  and  orioles 
and  larks.  Why  should  not  he  drum  when  the  orchestra 
in  the  trees  needs  this  harmonious  tree  drum  for  nature's 
true  poetry? 

Nature  is  lovely  here,  for  everything  is  in  harmony. 
Here  the  bees  hum,  yonder  sings  the  river. 

A  servant  stands  in  an  open  door. 

"  Is  Mr.  Audubon  in? "  we  ask. 

"  He  is  in  his  rooms  with  his  plates.  Would  you  like 
to  see  him? " 

The  tone  of  the  voice  reveals  a  man,  and  there  was 
something  in  the  servant's  voice  that  caught  the  spirit  of 
the  place.  The  great  trees,  the  singing  birds,  the  animals 
in  the  grounds,  and  the  serving-man  all  seemed  to  have  the 
spirit  of  Audubon.  There  was  harmony  in  all. 

We  enter.  The  naturalist  hears  our  feet,  and  comes 
to  meet  us.  He  is  thin,  with  an  heroic  head.  He  extends 
his  hand. 

"  We  have  come  from  the  city  to  call  on  you  out  of 
respect  for  all  that  you  have  done  for  our  country,"  says 
our  speaker. 


THE  HOME  OF  AUDUBON  ON  THE  HUDSON    215 

"  You  are  all  very  kind  to  think  of  me  now  that  my 
years  are  declining,  and  I  assure  you  that  you  are  very 
welcome.  Sit  down  where  we  can  see  the  Hudson  flow. 
The  birds  sing  gaily  here  in  the  early  morning.  I  love  to 
sit  down  here,  and  dream  of  my  old  forest  days  with 
Victor." 

We  look  around.  The  room  is  full  of  specimens  of 
rare  birds  and  skins  of  great  animals.  In  one  corner  are 
easels. 

He  tells  us  stories  of  some  of  these  animals,  his  white 
locks  falling  over  his  shoulders. 

"  The  city  is  a  prison,"  he  says;  "  only  those  who  live 
in  the  country  are  free.  I  have  loved  the  country  from  a 
boy,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  can  pass  my  old  age  among  the 
birds. 

"  My  father  taught  me  to  do  my  work  of  life  well, 
whatever  it  might  be,  and  to  follow  my  inward  calling  in 
whatever  I  undertook.  The  old  servants  at  Nantes  prophe- 
sied that  I  would  fulfil  my  purpose  in  life;  in  Humboldt 
I  saw  a  pattern  of  what  I  would  like  to  do.  I  forsook 
everything  for  the  life  of  a  painter  of  birds,  and  I 
did  this  with  no  thought  of  gaining  money  or  personal 
fame,  but  out  of  love  of  the  subject  and  of  America. 
I  have  failed  in  my  plans  many  times  in  life;  but 
my  dear  wife  and  sons  believed  in  me — they  held  up  my 
hands.  He  is  a  strong  man  who  holds  the  love  of  the 
family  heart." 


216  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Victor  comes  into  the  room.  He  is  a  fine-looking  man, 
with  the  consciousness  of  moral  worth  on  his  face. 

"  This  is  my  forest  boy,"  says  Audubon.  "  How  many 
hours  have  we  passed  together  listening  to  the  songs  of 
birds!" 

"  I  would  ask,  e  Does  the  woodpecker  drum  for  grubs, 
or  to  make  music  for  other  birds.? ' 

"Lucy!"  he  calls. 

"  In  a  moment !  " 

A  little  woman,  the  very  impersonation  of  purpose  and 
refinement,  comes  into  the  room. 

"  This  is  the  gentle  lady  who  left  everything,  and  went 
into  the  forests  to  nurse  Victor  under  the  trees.  The  dan- 
ger of  the  fever  in  the  woods  had  no  terror  for  her.  She 
loved.  I  introduced  her  to  the  President  one  day,  and 
she  dined  with  him;  and  if  she  took  snuff,  which  Heaven 
forbid,  she  might  do  so  out  of  the  Czar's  snuff-box.  Lucy 
believed  in  me  when  no  one  else  but  my  two  sons  did.  I 
want  you  to  take  her  by  the  hand.  I  love  her  with  the 
same  old  love.  Happy  is  he  who  holds  a  heart  like  hers. 
It  is  the  best  of  all  things  to  be  true-hearted." 

Another  room  contains  his  old  leathern  dress  of  the 
woods,  and  his  portfolio  cases  that  could  not  be  destroyed 
by  the  weather. 

We  wander  about  the  place.  All  bird-life  here  seems 
happy  and  contented.  Wings  and  fur  feet  gravitate  to 
and  not  from  the  stranger. 


THE  MUSICAL  WOODPECKER  217 

We  pass  along  the  aisles  of  the  green  leaves.  The 
musical  woodpecker  is  drumming  again. 

"  Does  he  drum  for  grubs  ?  "  asks  the  speaker. 

"  Sometimes,  but  not  now.  He  is  drumming  for  sound. 
He  is  a  musician,*  and  his  mate  is  near." 

We  turn  away,  and  we  have  seen  how  nature  may  be 
made  a  place  holy. 

*  "  Certain  varieties  of  woodpeckers  play  on  musical  instruments  for 
the  benefit  of  their  mates." — AUDUBON. 


CHAPTEE  XXIX 

THE    LAST    DAYS 

AUDUBON  died  in  the  bosom  of  his  family  in  "  Minnies- 
land,"  now  Audubon  Park,  New  York,  on  January  27, 
1851,  and  was  laid  to  rest  in  Trinity  Churchyard,  where 
his  monument  may  be  seen. 

"  Continue  my  work,"  was  the  dying  man's  thought. 
"  Finish  my  work,  my  sons;  let  it  live  in  you." 

"  Continue  my  work  "  was  also  his  message  to  the  world. 
The  sons  of  Audubon  are  gone,  but  the  Audubon  Societies 
continue  the  work,  and  will  ever  do  so,  in  the  name  of  the 
American  Woodman  and  the  Protector  of  Birds. 

Victor  Audubon,  the  true-hearted  son  and  forest  com- 
panion of  his  father  in  the  days  that  made  the  great  natu- 
ralist's influence,  fortune,  and  fame,  fulfilled  the  promise 
of  his  peculiar  education.  He  became  a  notable  painter 
of  animals,  and  thus  completed  his  father's  work.  His 
whole  career  shows  what  a  boy  may  be  to  a  father  to  whom 
has  been  given  some  noble  and  self-sacrificing  work  to  do, 
who  is  "  true  to  his  own." 

Thus,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  fiction,  but  always 

fiction  true  to  the  spirit  of  fact,  we  have  tried  to  present  a 
218 


Monument  in  Trinity  Cemetery,  Amsterdam  Avenue, 
New  York. 


THE  LAST  DAYS  219 

view  of  the  life  of  the  great  naturalist.  We  must  ask  the 
reader  to  continue  this  book  by  reading  Audubon's  Orni- 
thological Biographies,*  and  then  by  studying  nature  with 
a  camera,  and  reading  the  book  of  God  in  the  real  birds 
among  the  leaves  of  the  trees. 
"Continue  the  work!" 

*  These  are  published  by  the  Scribners,  with  the  naturalist's  journals 
and  memoirs. 


APPENDIX 


HOW  TO   FOKM   AN  AUDUBON   SOCIETY 
SUGGESTIONS  AND  SELECTIONS  FOR  CLUBS 

JsTo  bad  man  is  known  to  have  loved  birds  and  to  have 
made  them  his  friends.  Friendship  with  birds  stands  for 
all  that  is  best  in  life. 

A  generation  ago  a  man  who  would  paint  a  bird  must 
sacrifice  the  life  of  the  bird.  The  camera  has  now  made 
this  shutting  out  of  the  life  of  a  bird  unnecessary.  The 
taming  of  birds  by  putting  suet  and  scraps  on  branches  and 
twigs  of  trees  near  glass  windows  brings  the  lone  winter 
bird  into  view  without  taking  its  life. 

The  study  of  birds  is  the  study  of  many  sides  of  nature. 
Form  your  little  club  for  the  study  of  birds,  and  let  each 
member  have  a  sketching  camera. 

St.  Valentine's  Day  was  once  regarded  as  the  begin- 
ning of  the  English  spring.  It  was,  after  the  old  poets' 
legends,  the  wedding-day  of  the  birds.  Let  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  bird-lovers'  society  be  held,  when  conven- 
ient, on  St.  Valentine's  Day,  in  winter,  or,  if  summer  time 
be  desirable,  under  the  trees  in  the  open  field. 
220 


APPENDIX  221 

Study  Audubon,  Wilson,  Burroughs,  Emerson,  Tho- 
reau,  Frank  M.  Chapman,  Torrey,  Coues,  Olive  Thorne 
Miller,  and  others,  and  bird  pictures,  and  consult  Chapman's 
Handbook  of  Birds  and  Bird  Life. 

Study  skill  in  the  use  of  the  field-camera.  Note  the 
advice  in  Chapman's  Bird  Studies  with  a  Camera.  Let  your 
motto  be  the  "  protection  of  birds."  It  stands  for  education, 
for  justice  in  all  things;  it  teaches  the  true  lesson  of  all  life. 

Be  able  to  name  each  bird  that  cleaves  the  air,  and  to 
relate  some  story  about  it.  Have  field-classes  after  the 
manner  of  the  class  established  by  the  girls  of  Smith  Col- 
lege, Northampton,  Massachusetts.  This  method  is  not 
only  heart  education;  it  is  health.  It  puts  true  love  of 
nature  into  life. 

Let  your  club  describe  the  birds  that  stay  in  winter, 
and  in  the  spring  and  summer  let  it  study  the  birds  as 
they  come  from  the  South. 

Have  bird-calendars,  and  sit  down  in  some  woody  place 
betimes,  and  wait  for  the  birds  to  come. 

Watch  the  birds  as  they  build  their  nests.  Photograph 
them,  and  put  these  photographs  of  their  habits  on  the  club- 
room  walls. 

Fill  the  club-room  with  pictures,  collected  and  original. 
Have  an  Audubon  portrait,  if  you  can. 

In  regard  to  recitations,  study  the  poetry  of  Wilson, 
and  the  collections  of  poems  on  birds.  Wilson  was  the 
true  bird-poet. 

We  submit  a  few  selections  of  poems  from  sympathetic 
authors,  at  the  end  of  this  Appendix,  which  teach  the  pro- 
tection of  birds,  and  which  may  be  used  in  young  people's 
societies. 


222  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

HOW  TO  TAME  BIRDS  WITHOUT  CAGES 

The  people  of  Old  England  and  New  England  did  this 
by  erecting  bird-houses  on  piles  near  the  gable-windows. 
In  rural  districts  the  bird-house  was  a  principal  ornament 
of  the  garden;  it  rose  high  over  the  orchard  boughs  or 
amid  household  trees. 

The  people  of  New  England  erected  "  martin-boxes,"  as 
a  swallow-house  was  called,  and  they  rejoiced  in  the  high 
sun  of  spring  when  the  martin-birds  first  came  to  them. 

The  bluebird  was  a  dweller  in  these  New  England  bird- 
houses.  The  wren  made  his  nest  in  them.  The  oriole  wove 
her  pouched  nest  in  the  tops  of  the  high,  sunny  elms,  and 
the  swallows  or  swifts  came  yearly  to  the  chimney.  There 
was  new  joy  in  the  household  when  the  wings  of  the  swift 
were  heard  whirring  in  the  chimney. 

In  the  winter  the  same  people  hung  meat  on  the  bare 
limbs  of  the  dooryard  trees  for  the  birds — "  liver  and 
lights  "  this  meat  used  to  be  called.  The  chickadees  fed  on 
it,  and  even  the  "  red-headed  "  woodpecker  in  days  of  north- 
ern storms  and  stress. 

The  robins'  nests  were  protected,  as  were  the  nests  of 
the  ospreys,  which  were  thought  to  bring  good  luck.  So 
were  the  nests  of  the  barn  swallows. 

These  simple  methods  have  hardly  been  improved  upon. 
There  was  a  charm  in  the  bird-houses  of  the  orchards  and 
trees.  It  delighted  the  traveler  to  ride  by  them. 

How  tame  did  these  methods  make  the  birds?  So  tame 
that  the  robins  would  come  to  the  doors  and  call  for  help 
if  a  cat  were  found  climbing  a  tree  to  a  nest.  The  old 
ospreys  would  give  a  like  alarm  if  a  strange  hunter  were 


APPENDIX  223 

found  near  their  nests  in  the  oaks.  The  birds  of  Old  Eng- 
land and  New  England  came  to  have  a  sense  of  protec- 
tion; they  came  to  know  that  the  farmers'  families  were 
their  friends. 

The  catbird  would  build  her  nest  in  the  hedges  under 
the  dooryard  walls.  The  thrushes  would  seek  the  friendly 
boughs  of  the  home  trees. 

1.  The  best  way  to  begin  the  taming  of  birds  without 
cages  is  to  erect  these  friendly  and  alluring  bird  cages  and 
boxes.     The  use  of  the  camera  in  picturing  birds  now  sug- 
gests that  these  houses  be  erected  near  second-  or  third- 
story  windows  where  the  habits  of  the  birds  can  be  watched 
and  easily  pictured.     The  study  of  the  nest  is  the  study  of 
life,  and  all  the  kindly  purposes  and  methods  of  nature  are 
in  it;  it  is  a  parable  of  universal  beneficence. 

2.  Bring    the    nests    of    the    sweetest    singers — as    the 
thrushes,  the  orioles,  the  bluebirds — as  near  the  house  as 
possible  under  these  friendly  influences.     It  is  always  de- 
lightful to  listen  to  the  cooings  of  the  doves  in  the  dove- 
cote of  the  barn  or  crib.     The  field  and  forest  birds  may 
be  made  as  friendly.     When  the  birds  find  that  the  family 
are  their  friends,  they  will  build  their  nests  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  their  protectors. 

3.  Having  brought  the  birds  near  your  home  by  your 
friendliness,  study  the  songs  of  the  birds.    There  is  spiritual 
meaning  in  these  songs.    All  things  are  one  with  God,  their 
source.     The  birds  may  be  your  psalter  and  choir.     You 
will  love  them  dearly  more  and  more. 

4.  Some  of  the  kindergartners  of  Germany  and  Switzer- 
land induce  uncaged  birds  to  visit  the  windows  for  nest- 
building  and  for  food.    It  is  a  part  of  the  beneficent  educa- 


224  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

tion  of  the  systems  of  Pestalozzi  and  Froebel  to  encourage 
the  birds  to  come  to  the  schoolroom  as  object-lessons,  or  as 
teachers  from  the  woods  and  fields.  Have  bird-houses  in 
the  schoolyard,  and  let  it  be  a  marked  day  when  the  pro- 
tected young  birds  leave  their  nests. 

Let  the  church  teach  this  affection  for  the  inhabitants 
of  the  air,  as  did  Francis  of  Assisi,  who  made  the  birds  his 
brothers;  Father  Taylor,  of  the  Old  North  Square,  Boston, 
about  whose  head  the  pigeons  used  to  flock;  and  Phillips 
Brooks,  whose  church-tower  is  still  full  of  wings.  The  He- 
brews had  this  sense  of  what  was  due  to  the  song  wings,  and 
the  swallow  found  a  "  nest  for  the  young  "  at  the  sacred  altar. 

5.  Study  the  birds  that  protect  trees  and  crops;  give 
the  crows  and  blackbirds  their  true  place  in  nature. 

6.  Study  birds  that  see  in  the  night.    Let  the  study  not 
be  confined  to  day-birds,  but  to  those  that  protect  crops  by 
night  seeing,  by  destroying  aerial  insects — the  night-hawk, 
the  night-jay,  the  owls  and  bats,  as  if  the  bat  were  a  bird. 

Among  these  are  the  chimney-swallow  that  sleeps  at 
noonday,  the  whippoorwill  of  song,  the  herons  of  many 
kinds.  The  mocking-bird  is  the  prima  donna  of  the  night, 
and  sings  all  songs  in  one. 

RUSTIC  BIRD-HOMES 

In  England  bird-boxes  make  cheerful  the  trees  and 
hedgerows  around  English  cottages.  In  New  England  in 
the  last  centuries,  "  martin-boxes "  or  bird-homes  caused 
the  glimmerings  of  happy  wings  in  the  dooryard  trees. 
Holes  for  swallows  and  "  St.  Martin's  birds "  were  cut 
under  the  eaves  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  farmhouse,  and 
perches  were  placed  under  them.  The  true  spring  began 


APPENDIX  225 

when  the  good  wife  and  children  heard  the  swallows  twit- 
tering under  the  eaves. 

The  boys  delighted  in  making  bird-boxes  or  houses  in 
winter.  These  were  placed  on  poles,  and  sometimes  the 
hop-vines  were  set  so  as  to  twine  around  them.  Such  houses 
in  places  adorned  the  grape  arbors  and  cribs.  They  were 
sometimes  made  in  the  form  of  a  church  and  spire.  They 
are  not  as  often  seen  now.  They  should  reappear. 

There  came  a  period  of  rustic  ornaments  for  the  home, 
rustic-work  fences,  verandas,  and  hanging  baskets.  This 
work  suggested  the  natural  bird-house — a  hollow  log,  like  a 
keg,  set  on  gables,  poles,  and  in  the  crotches  of  trees. 

The  bluebirds  and  wrens  delight  in  these  bird-houses. 
The  swallows  find  natural  retreat  in  them,  when  they  are 
placed  on  poles,  or  high  in  trees. 

They  may  be  ornamented  with  rustic  kinds  of  pine  or 
cedar,  or  a  honeysuckle  may  be  trained  to  grow  so  as  to 
cover  them.  Perches  or  pegs  may  be  set  at  the  entrance 
to  the  hollow  cavity.  The  hollow  trunks  of  apple-trees 
may  be  made  roomy  chambers  for  nests. 

The  migratory  birds  may  thus  be  brought  into  intimate 
relations  with  the  family.  They  may  be  rendered  so  tame 
by  feeding  and  protection  as  to  return  to  the  same  place 
for  many  years.  The  pigeon-house  may  be  fastened  in  this 
way,  and  so  as  to  form  a  very  sightly  ornament  to  the  crib 
or  stable. 

The  limbs  of  trees  that  contain  the  homes  of  the  car- 
penter birds,  as  the  woodpeckers,  should  be  protected. 
After  the  woodpeckers  have  left  them  to  make  cavities  in 
other  trees,  the  bluebirds  and  wrens  will  take  possession  of 

the  old  cavities. 
15 


226  IN  THE  DAYS  OP  AUDUBON 

Open  rustic-work  may  be  placed  over  a  nest  that  is  in 
danger  of  being  destroyed  by  a  cat,  as  the  nest  of  a  robin 
near  the  house  on  a  friendly,  limb.  The  robin  would  be 
likely  to  return  to  it  a  second  year. 

The  birds  that  build  in  the  walls  may  be  protected  in 
this  way,  as  also  the  night-birds  that  nest  on  rocks.  A 
friendly  atmosphere  makes  friendly  birds,  and  the  rusticity 
has  a  charm  that  is  educational.  Such  things  are  kindly 
thoughts  embodied,  and  they  make  home  sacred  and  the 
memories  of  dooryard  trees  lasting  joys.  They  make  young 
people's  hearts  turn  home  wherever  they  may  be. 

SUGGESTIONS  OF  TOPICS  FOR  CLUBS 

1.  Study  how  the  birds  prepared  the  earth  for  man. 

2.  Study  the  evidences  of  reason  in  birds — how  they 
build  their  nests  in  different  ways  so  as  to  escape  from 
their  enemies;  how  the  partridge  uses  illusion  to  protect 
her  young. 

3.  Study  the  bird  songs  of  the  morning — the  song  of 
triumph;  of  the  evening — the  song  of  meditation  and  rest. 

4.  Study  how  birds  help  man: 

1.  The    birds    that    protect    the    garden    and    fruit 

bushes,   the   robins,   the   finches,    the   black- 
birds. 

2.  The  herons,   that   extract  worms  from   animals' 

flesh. 

3.  The  birds  that  protect  trees  by  grubbing,  as  the 

woodpeckers. 

4.  The  birds  that  clear  the  air — the  swallows. 

5.  The  birds  that  destroy  sap-eating  insects,  as  the 

magpie. 


APPENDIX  227 

6.  The  birds  that  purify  flowers,  as  the  humming- 

birds. 

7.  The  birds  that  protect  fruit,  as  the  bee-eater. 

8.  The  birds  that  destroy  the  seeds  of  weeds,  as  the 

goldfinch. 

9.  The  birds  that  destroy  larvae,  as  the  wren. 

10.  The  woodpecker  as  a  meteorologist. 

11.  Birds  like  the  crow,  that  protect  more  than  they 

destroy. 

12.  Birds  that  give  warning  to  other  birds,  like  the 

thrush. 

13.  The  birds'  singing-schools  for  the  young. 

14.  The  rivalries  of  song  in  the  wood. 

15.  The  poets  and  the  birds: 

1.  The  Birds  of  Shakespeare. 

2.  The  Birds  of  Wordsworth. 

3.  The  Birds  of  Longfellow. 


SELECTIONS  FOR   RECITATION   AT  AUDUBON 
SOCIETIES 

THE  AMERICAN  BLUEBIRD 

BY  ALEXANDER  WILSON 

WHEN  winter's  cold  tempests  and  snows  are  no  more, 
Green  meadows  and  brown  furrowed  fields  reappearing; 

The  fishermen  hauling  their  shad  to  the  shore, 
And  cloud-cleaving  geese  to  the  lakes  are  a-steering; 


228  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

When  first  the  lone  butterfly  flits  on  the  wing, 

When  red  grow  the  maples,  'mid  swelling  buds  burning, 

Oh  then  comes  the  bluebird,   the  herald  of  spring, 
And  hails  with  his  warblings  the  season's  returning. 

Then  loud-piping  frogs  make  the  marshes  to  ring, 

Then  warm  glows  the  sunshine,  and  fine  is  the  weather; 
Then  blue  woodland  flowers  just  beginning  to  spring, 

And  spice-wood  and  sassafras  budding  together. 
Oh  then  to  your  gardens,  ye  housewives,  repair, 

Your  walks  border  up,  sow  and  plant  at  your  leisure; 
The  bluebird  will  chant  from  his  box  such  an  air, 

That  all  your  hard  toils  will  seem  truly  a  pleasure. 

He  fiits  through  the  orchard,  he  visits  each  tree, 

The  red-flowering  peach,  and  the  apple's  sweet  blossoms; 
He  snaps  up  destroyers  wherever  they  be, 

And  seizes  the  caitiffs  that  lurk  in  their  bosoms; 
He  draws  the  vile  grub  from  the  corn  it  devours, 

The  worms  from  their  webs  where  they  riot  and  welter; 
His  song  and  his  services  freely  are  ours, 

And  all  that  he  asks  is  in  summer  a  shelter. 

The  plowman  is  pleased  when  he  gleans  in  his  train, 

Now  searching  the  furrows,  now  mounting  to  cheer  him; 
The  gard'ner  delights  in  his  sweet  simple  strain, 

And  leans  on  his  spade  to  survey  and  to  hear  him; 
The  slow-ling'ring  schoolboys  forget  they'll  be  chid, 

While  gazing  intent  as  he  warbles  before  'em, 
In  mantle  of  sky-blue,  and  bosom  so  red, 

That  each  little  loiterer  seems  to  adore  him. 


APPENDIX  229 

When  all  the  gay  scenes  of  the  summer  are  o'er, 

And  autumn  slow  enters  so  silent  and  sallow; 
And  millions  of  warblers,  that  charmed  us  before, 

Have  fled  in  the  train  of  the  sun-seeking  swallow — 
The  bluebird,  forsaken,  yet  true  to  his  home, 

Still  lingers,  and  looks  for  a  milder  to-morrow; 
Till,  forced  by  the  horrors  of  winter  to  roam, 

He  sings  his  adieu  in  a  lone  note  of  sorrow. 

While  spring's  lovely  season,  serene,  dewy,  warm, 

The  green  face  of  earth  and  the  "pure  blue  of  heaven; 
Or  love's  native  music  have  influence  to  charm, 

Or  sympathy's  glow  to  our  feelings  are  given — 
Still  dear  to  each  bosom  the  bluebird  shall  be; 

His  voice,  like  the  thrillings  of  hope,  is  a  treasure; 
For  through  bleakest  storms,  if  a  calm  he  but  see, 

He  comes  to  remind  us  of  sunshine  and  pleasure. 

THE  FLORIDA  IBIS 

The  Southern  Cross  uplifts  one  glowing  star 
Between  the  horizon  and  the  Gulf  afar; 
I  watch  the  light  from  the  lone  river  bar, 
And  gaze  across  the  sea — 

A  sea  on  which  a  hundred  sunsets  glow, 
Whose  tides  around  a  hundred  islands  flow, 
Where  lies  the  sky  above  in  deeps  below —     • 
A  shadow  falls  on  me. 

Has  heaven  opened? — do  evangels  fly, 
As  in  the  prophet's  heaven,  across  the  sky? 
A  hundred  silver  wings  now  fill  my  eye, 
A  cloud  of  wings,  as  one. 


230  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

O  Ibis,  Ibis!  whose  thin  wings  of  white 
Scarce  stir  the  roses  of  the  sunset  light, 
When  day  dissolving  leaves  the  coasts  to  night, 
And  far  seas  hide  the  sun; 

From  weedy  weirs,  where  blaze  the  tropic  noons; 
Savannas  dark,  where  cool  the  fiery  moons; 
From  still  Lake  Worth,  and  mossy-walled  lagoons, 
Where  never  footsteps  stray; 

To  far  Clearwater,  and  its  isles  of  pine; 
From  beryl  seas  to  seas  of  opaline, 
Those  level  coasts  where  helpless  sea-conchs  shine — 
Thou  driftest  on  thy  way! 

0  Ibis,  Ibis,  bird  of  Hermes  bold, 
The  avatar  to  men  from  gates  of  gold, 

That  blessed  all  eyes  that  saw  thy  wings  of  old! 
My  thought,  like  thee,  hath  wings. 

1  follow  thee,  as  cool  the  shadows  fall, 
And  burn  the  stars  on  yon  horizon's  wall; 
And  Memphian  altars,  as  my  thoughts  recall, 

My  soul  to  thee  upsprings! 

My  heart  to-night  with  nature's  soul  is  thrilled, 
As  with  the  fire  that  priests  of  Isis  filled 
When  rose  thy  wings,   and  all  the  world  was  stilled 
Beneath  thy  lucent  plumes! 

O  Ibis,  Ibis!  whence  thy  silent  flight? 
O'er  Everglades  that  only  fireflies  light, 
Magnolias  languid  with  their  blooms,  when  night 
Gathers  from  far  her  glooms; 


APPENDIX  231 

O'er  mossy  live-oaks,  high  palmetto  shades, 
The  cypressed  lakelets  of  the  everglades; 
O'er  rivers  dead,  and  still  pines'  colonnades, 
Where  sweet  the  jessamine  grows; 

Where  red  blooms  flame  amid  the  trailing  moss, 
And  streams  unnumbered  low  lianas  cross; 
Wild-orange  groves,  where  in  their  nests  of  floss 
The  sun-birds  find  repose. 

But  hark!  what  sound  upon  the  stillness  breaks? 
A  rifle-shot — a  boatman  on  the  lakes, 
An  Ibis'  wing  above  in  silver  flakes — 
A  white  bird  downward  falls ! 

O  Ibis,  Ibis,  of  the  tropic  skies, 
For  whom  the  arches  of  the  sunsets  rise! 
God  made  this  world  to  be  thy  paradise, 
Thy  Eden  without  walls. 

O  Ibis  dead,  that  on  the  dark  lake  floats, 
Whose  dimming  eyes  see  not  the  sportsmen's  boats, 
O'er  whose  torn  wing  some  brutal  instinct  gloats, 
I  wonder  if  in  thee 

Live  not  some  spirit — so  the  Egyptian  thought — 
Some  inner  life  from  Life's  great  fountain  brought, 
Something  divine  from  God's  great  goodness  caught, 
Some  immortality? 

Are  all  these  paradises  dead  to  thee — 
The  cool  savanna  and  the  purple  sea, 
The  air,  thy  ocean,  where  thou  wanderest  free — 
I  wonder,  are  they  dead? 


232  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

Or  hast  thou  yet  a  spirit  life,  that  flies 
Like  thine  own  image  through  the  endless  skies, 
And  art  thou  to  some  new-born  paradise 
By  higher  instincts  led? 

Is  death,  like  life,  alike  to  all  that  live? 
Does  God  to  all  a  double  life  give? 
Do  all  that  breathe  eternal  life  receive? 
Is  thought,  where'er  it  be, 

Immortal  as  the  Source  from  whence  it  came? 
O  living  Ibis!  in  the  sunset's  flame, 
Still  flying  westward  thou  and  I,  the  same, 
Can  answer  not — but  He? 

— Youth's  Companion. 

THE  EAGLE 

BY  JAMES   GATES   PERCIVAL 

Bird  of  the  broad  and  sweeping  wing, 

Thy  home  is  high  in  heaven, 
"Where  wide  the  storms  their  banner  fling, 

And  the  tempest-clouds  are  driven. 
Thy  throne  is  on  the  mountain-top; 

Thy  fields,  the  boundless  air; 
And  hoary  peaks,  that  proudly  prop 

The  skies,  thy  dwellings  are. 

Thou  sittest,  like  a  thing  of  light, 

Amid  the  noontide  blaze: 
The  mid-day  sun,  though  clear  and  bright, 

Can  never  dim  thy  gaze. 


APPENDIX  233 

When  the  night  storm  gathers  dim  and  dark, 

With  a  shrill  and  boding  scream, 
Thou  rushest  by  the  foundering  bark, 

Quick  as  a  passing  dream. 

Thou  art  perched  aloft  on  the  beetling  crag, 

And  the  waves  are  white  below, 
And  on,  with  a  haste  that  can  not  lag, 

They  rush  in  an  endless  flow. 
Again  thou  hast  plumed  thy  wing  for  flight 

To  lands  beyond  the  sea, 
And  away,  like  a  spirit  wreathed  in  light, 

Thou  hurriest,  wild  and  free. 

Lord  of  the  boundless  realm  of  air, 

In  thy  imperial  name, 
The  hearts  of  the  bold  and  ardent  dare 

The  dangerous  path  of  fame. 
Beneath  the  shade  of  thy  golden  wings 

The  Roman  legions  bore, 
From  the  river  of  Egypt's  cloudy  springs, 

Their  pride  to  the  polar  shore. 

For  thee  they  fought,  for  thee  they  fell, 

And  their  oath  was  on  thee  laid; 
To  thee  the  clarions  raised  their  swell, 

And  the  dying  warrior  prayed. 
Thou  wert,  through  an  age  of  death  and  fears, 

The  image  of  pride  and  power, 
Till  the  gathered  rage  of  a  thousand  years 

Burst  forth  in  one  awful  hour. 


234  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

And  then  a  deluge  of  wrath  it  came, 

And  the  nations  shook  with  dread; 
And  it  swept  the  earth  till  its  fields  were  flame, 

And  piled  with  the  mingled  dead. 
Kings  were  rolled  in  the  wasteful  flood 

With  the  low  and  crouching  slave; 
And  together  lay,  in  a  shroud  of  blood, 

The  coward  and  the  brave. 

And  where  was  then  thy  fearless  flight? 

"  O'er  the  dark,  mysterious  sea, 
To  the  lands  that  caught  the  setting  light, 

The  cradle  of  Liberty. 
There,  on  the  silent  and  lonely  shore, 

For  ages  I  watched  alone, 
And  the  world  in  its  darkness  asked  no  more 

Where  the  glorious  bird  had  flown. 

"  But  then  came  a  bold  and  hardy  few, 

And  they  breasted  the  unknown  wave; 
I  caught  afar  the  wandering  crew, 

And  I  knew  they  were  high  and  brave. 
I  wheeled  around  the  welcome  bark, 

As  it  sought  the  desolate  shore, 
And  up  to  heaven,  like  a  joyous  lark, 

My  quivering  pinions  bore. 

"  And  now  that  bold  and  hardy  few 

Are  a  nation  wide  and  strong; 
And  danger  and  doubt  I  have  led  them  through, 

And  they  worship  me  in  song; 


APPENDIX  235 

And  over  their  bright  and  glancing  arms, 

On  field,  and  lake,  and  sea, 
With  an  eye  that  fires,  and  a  spell  that  charms, 

I  guide  them  to  victory." 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE 

BY  CHARLES  WEST  THOMSON 

Bird  of  Columbia,  well  are  thou 

An  emblem  of  our  native  land; 
With  unblanched  front  and  noble  brow, 

Among  the  nations  doomed  to  stand; 
Proud  like  her  mighty  mountain  woods; 

Like  her  own  rivers  wandering  free; 
And  sending  forth  from  hills  and  floods 

The  joyous  shout  of  liberty. 
Like  thee,  majestic  bird,  like  thee, 
She  stands  in  unbought  majesty, 
With  spreading  wing,  untired  and  strong, 
That  dares  a  soaring  far  and  long, 
That  mounts  aloft,  nor  looks  below, 
And  will  not  quail  though  tempests  blow. 

The  admiration  of  the  earth, 

In  grand  simplicity  she  stands; 
Like  thee,  the  storms  beheld  her  birth, 

And  she  was  nursed  by  rugged  hands; 
But,  past  the  fierce  and  furious  war, 

Her  rising  fame  new  glory  brings, 
For  kings  and  nobles  come  from  far 

To  seek  the  shelter  of  her  wings. 


236  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON 

And  like  thee,  rider  of  the  cloud, 

She  mounts  the  heavens,  serene  and  proud, 

Great  in  a  pure  and  noble  fame, 

Great  in  her  spotless  champion's  name, 

And  destined  in  her  day  to  be 

Mighty  as  Rome — more  nobly  free. 

My  native  land,  my  native  land, 

To  her  my  thoughts  will  fondly  turn; 
For  her  the  warmest  hopes  expand, 

For  her  the  heart  with  fears  will  yearn. 
Oh,  may  she  keep  her  eye,  like  thee, 

Proud  eagle  of  the  rocky  wild, 
Fixed  on  the  sun  of  liberty, 

By  rank,  by  faction,  unbeguiled; 
Remembering  still  the  rugged  road 
Our  venerable  fathers  trod, 
When  they  through  toil  and  danger  pressed 
To  gain  their  glorious  bequest, 
And  from  each  lip  the  caution  fell 
To  those  who  followed,  "  Guard  it  well." 


THE    END 


YOUNG  HEROES  OF  OUR  NAVY. 

Uniform  Edition,    Each,  J2mo,  cloth,  $J.CO. 

Reuben  James. 

A  Hero  of  the  Forecastle.      By  CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY,  author 
of  "  Paul  Jones."      Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs  and  others. 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  absorbing  than  Mr.  Brady's  graphic  tale,  which 
forms  an  eloquent  tribute  to  the  heroes  of  the  forecastle,  the  predecessors  of  the 
men  who  did  such  gallant  work  at  Manila  and  Santiago." — Cleveland  World. 

The  Hero  of  Manila. 

Dewey  on  the  Mississippi  and  the  Pacific.     By  ROSSITER  JOHNSON. 
Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst  and  others. 

"There  is  nothing  sensational  or  bombastic  in  the  story  from  beginning  to 
end.  It  is,  however,  picturesque  and  vivid,  as  well  as  dignified,  modest,  and 
decidedly  interesting." — Boston  Budget. 

The  Hero  Of  Erie    (Commodore  Perry). 
By  JAMES  BARNES,  author  of  "  Midshipman  Farragut,"  "  Com- 
modore Bainbridge,"  etc.    With  10  full-page  Illustrations. 

Commodore  Bainbridge. 

From  the  Gunroom    to  the  Quarter-deck.      By  JAMES   BARNES. 
Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs  and  others. 

Midshipman  Farragut. 

By  JAMES  BARNES.      Illustrated  by  Carlton  F.  Chapman. 

Decatur  and  Somers. 

By   MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL.     With  6  full-page  Illustrations  by 
J.  O.  Davidson  and  others. 

Paul  Jones. 

By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL.      With  8  full-page  Illustrations. 

Midshipman  Paulding. 

A  True  Story  of  the  War  of  1 8 1  2.      By   MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA- 
WELL.     With  6  full-page  Illustrations. 

Little  Jarvis. 

The  Story  of  the  Heroic  Midshipman  of  the  Frigate  Constellation. 
By  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEAWELL.     With  6  full-page  Illustrations. 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


D.  APPLETON    AND  COMPANY'S   PUBLICATIONS. 
BOOKS   BY   WILLIAM   O.   STODDARD. 

UNIFORM   EDITION.      EACH,    I2MO,   CLOTH,    $1.50. 

'ITU  THE  BLACK  PRINCE.  A  Story  of 
Adventure  in  the  Fourteenth  Century.  Illustrated  by  B. 
West  Clinedinst. 

This  is  a  story  of  adventure  and  of  battle,  but  it  is  also  an  informing  presentation 
of  life  in  England  and  some  phases  of  life  in  France  in  the  fourteenth  century.  The 
hero  is  associated  with  the  Black  Prince  at  Crecy  and  elsewhere.  Mr.  Stoddard  has 
done  his  best  work  in  this  story,  and  the  absorbing  interest  of  his  stirring  historical  ro- 
mance will  appeal  to  all  young  readers. 

^UCCESS  AGAINST   ODDS  ;  or,  How  an  Amen- 
*•— '      can  Boy  made  his  Way.     Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 

In  this  spirited  and  interesting  story  Mr.  Stoddard  tells  the  adventures  of  a  plucky 
boy  who  fought  his  own  battles,  and  made  his  way  upward  from  poverty  in  a  Long 
Island  seashore  town.  It  is  a  tale  of  pluck  and  self-reliance  capitally  told.  The  sea- 
shore life  is  vividly  described,  and  there  are  plenty  of  exciting  incidents. 

"HE  RED  PATRIOT.     A  Story  of  the  American 
Revolution.     Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 

HE   WINDFALL  j  or,  After  the  Flood.    Illustrated 
by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 

HRIS,   THE  MODEL-MAKER.    A  Story  of  New 
York.     With  6  full-page  Illustrations  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 

N   THE  OLD  FRONTIER.     With   10  full-page 
Illustrations. 


T 
T 

C 
O 


BATTLE   OF  NEW  YORK.    With  u  full- 

•*        page  Illustrations  and  colored  Frontispiece. 

T  ITTLE  SMOKE.     A  Story  of  the  Sioux  Indians. 
-^— ^    With  12  full-page   Illustrations  by  F.  S.  Dellenbaugh,  portraits 
of  Sitting  Bull,  Red  Cloud,  and  other  chiefs,  and  72  head  and 
tail  pieces  representing  the  various  implements  and  surround- 
ings of  Indian  life. 

CROWDED   OUT  O'    CRO FIELD.     The  story  of 

a  country  boy  who  fought  his  way  to  success  in  the  great  me- 
tropolis.     With  23  Illustrations  by  C.  T.  Hill. 


D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


D.   APPLETON   AND  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

GOOD   BOOKS    FOR   YOUNG   READERS. 

E  EXPLOITS  OF  MYLES  STAND1SH.    By 

HENRY  JOHNSON  (Muirhead  Robertson),  author  of  "  From 
Scrooby  to  Plymouth  Rock,"  etc.  Illustrated.  I2mo.  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"  A  vivid  picture,  keen  and  penetrating  in  its    interests,  and  familiarizing  young 
.pie  in  a  popular  way  <   '  * 
nd." — Boston  Herald. 


people  in  a  popular  way  with  the  hardships  endured  by  the  early  settlers  of  New  Eng 
lar 


"  All  that  concerns  the  settlement  at  New  Plymouth  is  told  with  fine  skill  and  vivid- 
ness of  description.  ...  A  book  that  must  be  read  from  cover  to  cover  with  unfalter- 
ing interest." — Boston  Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

CHRISTINE'S  CAREER.     A  Story  for  Girls.     By 
^      PAULINE  KING.     Illustrated.     I2mo.     Cloth,  specially  bound, 
$1.50. 

The  story  is  fresh  and  modern,  relieved  by  incidents  and  constant  humor,  and  thfc 
lessons  which  are  suggested  arc  most  beneficial. 

OHN  BOYD'S  ADVENTURES.  By  THOMAS 
W.  KNOX,  author  of  "  The  Boy  Travelers,"  etc.  With  12  full- 
page  Illustrations.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

A LONG    THE  FLORIDA   REEF.      By  CHARLES 
•*•*    F.  HOLDER,  joint  author   of  "  Elements   of  Zoology."     With 
numerous  Illustrations.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

ENGLISHMAN'S   HAVEN.     By  W.  J.  GORDON. 
-^-*    author  of  "  The  Captain-General, "  etc.     With  8  full-page  Illus- 
trations.    I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

ALL.  A  Story  of  Outdoor  Life  and  Adventure 
in  Arkansas.  By  OCTAVE  THANET.  With  12  full-page  Illus- 
trations  by  E.  J.  Austen  and  Others.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

ING  TOM  AND  THE  RUNAWAYS.  By 
Louis  PENDLETON.  The  experiences  of  two  boys  in  the  forests 
of  Georgia.  With  6  Illustrations  by  E.  W.  Kemble.  I2mo, 
Cloth,  $1.50. 


K 


D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY.  NEW  YORK. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  WEST  SERIES. 

Edited  by  RIPLEY  HITCHCOCK. 

Each,  illustrated,  J2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Story  of  the  Soldier. 

By  General  G.  A.  FORSYTH,  U.  S.  Army  (retired).  Illustrated  by 
R.  F.  Zogbaum. 

"  A  very  complete  and  vivid  picture  of  the  development  of  the  West  from  a  military 
point  of  view,  with  side  lights  on  the  civil  war." — The  Churchman. 

The  Story  of  the  Railroad. 

By  CY  WARMAN,  author  of  "The  Express  Messenger,"  etc. 
With  Maps  and  many  Illustrations  by  B.  West  Clinedinst  and 
from  photographs. 


In  Mr.  Warman  s  book  we  are  kept  constantly  reminded  of  the  fortitude,  the  suf- 
j,  and  the  endurance  of  the  pioneers." — The  Railroad  Gazette. 


fering,  the  enterprise, 


The  Story  of  the  Cowboy. 

By  E.  HOUGH,   author  of  "  The   Singing  Mouse  Stories,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  William  L.  Wells  and  C.  M.  Russell. 

"  Mr.  Hough  is  to  be  thanked  for  having  written  so  excellent  a  book.  The  cowboy 
story,  as  this  author  has  told  it,  will  be  the  cowboy's  fitting  eulogy.  This  volume  will 
be  consulted  in  years  to  come  as  an  authority  on  past  conditions  of  the  far  West.  For 
fine  literary  work  the  author  is  to  be  highly  complimented.  Here,  certainly,  we  have  a 
choice  piece  of  writing." — Neiv  York  Times. 

The  Story  of  the  Mine. 

As  illustrated   by   the    Great    Comstock    Lode   of  Nevada.      By 
CHARLES  HOWARD  SHINN. 

"  The  author  has  written  a  book  not  alone  full  of  information,  but  replete  with  the 
true  romance  of  the  American  mine." — New  York  Times. 

The  Story  of  the  Indian. 

By  GEORGE  BIRD  GRINNELL,  author  of  "  Pawnee  Hero  Stories," 
"  Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,"  etc, 

"  Only  an  author  qualified  by  personal  experience  could  offer  us  a  profitable  study 
of  a  race  so  alien  from  our  own  as  is  the  Indian  in  thought,  feeling,  and  culture.  Only 
long  association  with  Indians  can  enable  a  white  man  measurably  to  comprehend  their 
thoughts  and  enter  into  their  feelings.  Such  association  has  been  Mr.  Grinnell's."  — 
New  York  Sun. 


D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


27Fefc52CF 

14feb52LU 

12«Y'54H  K 
IIIH?  0195*  I 


RECTO  CD 

AUGI3195? 


JUL31  J968     7 

r 


o 


SEP    71975 


OCT  o  7  2005 


LD  21-95m-ll,'50(2877sl6)476 


